


「 glory and gore 」

by LilacsAndLullabies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama & Romance, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Secrets, Fluff, Insanity, Kink Exploration, Lies, Porn With Plot, Power Dynamics, Secrets, Slow Burn, Smut, Survival, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacsAndLullabies/pseuds/LilacsAndLullabies
Summary: "When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream he comes a-runnin', but not to help." - Thomas Harris.Maeve Dahl was hidden from the world, her social circle kept small and studies governed by a man titled her father. Everything she grew to know and love soon shattered before her very eyes one night, when she snuck out and a necklace that had seemed to keep her safe was stolen. It is here that her story unfolds, discovering things about her past, about herself, that she never knew imaginable.Draco Malfoy is strapped tight by the bindings made from his parents, his life as dark and complex as the void. While he is given the grueling task of executing the very headmaster of Hogwarts, such a job is put on hiatus yet no sighs of relief can be released. The Dark Lord has a new mission for him, one that seems oddly intriguing and questionable, and that is to get close to the new student of Hogwarts, learn of her, and see her capabilities. It seemed easy enough... until it wasn't.**THIS IS A SLOW, EVENTUAL ROMANCE. IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR INSTANT SMUT AND GRIND, WELL, SORRY, TAKES TIME. IF YOU WANT A LEGIT STORY THAT HAS DEPTH, k well hello, thanks for poppin in x
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Original Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	1. copyright and cast

**Author's Note:**

> Throughout this story the world of Harry Potter will be somewhat augmented. Maeve will be in entering her 6th year but each character will be seventeen, as to me 7th year they will be around eighteen. Even if they are seventeen during this time and I'm just mental, well, they are what they are in this version lol. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy what you read and please feel free to comment your thoughts!  
> xo L.L. 
> 
> P.S. This piece is also posted on Wattpad under my username DovieDoll. Feel free to support it there if you'd prefer, or just enjoy it here! xx

Copyright belongs to J.K. Rowling regarding the universe and canon characters of Harry Potter. I, Dovie Doll, only own any and all original characters placed into an already established world.

 **Warning** : The following is Rated R and contains mature content, i.e. drug use, vulgar language, sexual details, and violence. Reader discretion is advised and recommended to be 18+.  
  
THIS STORY WILL BE SET DURING THE TIME OF HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE.  
INSTEAD OF THEM BEING SIXTEEN, HOWEVER, I AM BUMPING THEM UP TO SEVENTEEN. SEVENTH YEAR WILL BE FOCUSED ON THEM BEING EIGHTEEN.

...unless they already _are_ seventeen during this and I'm just mental.   
Whatever, either way they are if they are and they are if they are not.

♡

____________________________________

  
** The Cast of Glory & Gore **

**MAEVE DAHL - _Will be revealed in story, 6th year_**

**DRACO MALFOY - _Slytherin, 6th year._**

**ELSBET PERRYWINKLE - _Ravenclaw, 6th year_**

**FELIX FIREBRAND - _Hufflepuff, 6th year_**

**ARABELLA AXELING -** **_Slytherin, 6th year_ **

  
\+ others that are canon to the HP universe and other OC's that will be listed later on.

♡


	2. 01 | 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒖𝒏

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeve Dahl is exploring the woods around her home and using magic to sneak out of the barrier, heading into the small town of Gammelstad in Sweden, approximately a days walk from her current residence. Sadly, things go wrong, and her wish of being released from her cage is taken literally in the most unfortunate of ways.

**THERE IT WAS, ALWAYS** and everlasting, ongoing as long as the pine trees thrived. The fresh scent of nature in all of its glory. Mother Earth was the one constant that never failed to extend warm arms out towards Maeve, beckoning her into an embrace of twig and berry. It was a quiet life, footsteps imprinting into soiled grounds, for the speckle of civilization was a length away. The nearest town was a days walk but even that was forbidden fruit. Father was always firm in telling her that she could not trifle among the many, and when she begged the question his lips would thin into a line and such eyes of vibrant blue would blaze like a true mark of _Protego Diabolica_. She walked with invisible chains shackled around her ankles, forever and always.

Maeve wanted to hate him. Breathe fire and watch him melt. Yet, he was her Father, and while he kept her contained he did not act with malice. Each day he was tender and soft, firm when necessary, and a professor of magic proficient in various forms. She was no fool and for that she thanks him, but for what? What is such knowledge when little of it mattered to be of use?

Another sigh fell from her lips, expunging from her lungs as if she were exhausted from a long days work. A whicker basket kept to her side, various herbs cuddled in its depths, with an odd flower or three tossed on top. The air was fresh and free, and as Maeve looked ahead, her opal eyes fixated on the towering trees that looked as if they'd scrape the sky, she found comfort in the solace. A comfort that had been forced to manifest due to such seclusion.

With each step she took she'd come to hum a little tune. Her dark blue skirts danced along her calves, attention span drifting far away from reality, slowly coming to close her eyes and just bathe herself in the world surrounding. Her walk continued like this until she'd reach the familiar clearing deemed her 'Freedom Circle' that housed a creek winding through the middle. Once upon a time she had followed the trail but was met with a barrier, unable to go any farther than her wishes demanded. Not this time, however.

No, this time she had tricks in her bag. It was more than the odd herb and pinch of twine. Maeve leaned a little closer, her snowdrop hair dancing in the light wind that whispered words of encouragement, following the line of water into the depths of wood. The ground was gradually hardening given September's touch, but she still felt the soles of her shoes sink just a tad. Pieces of old and dead branches crunched if she applied pressure in her steps.

It was not long before she found the little cabin. A structure as old as time with only half a roof. Almost all of it had been reclaimed by The Mother, her wiry arms made of wood and leaf reaching out, curling around the stone. It had a pulse all of its own. Something about this ancient hut made her feel invigorated. As if she were peaking into a past long forgotten, and that of it being an area unused and unknown by her Father.

" _Kom in, kom in,_  
 _I avgrunden_

 _Följ älvorna._  
 _Följ dimman_."

The words fell from her soft lips. A little tune she recalled from her youth, something she could not quite place but knew by heart. The ends of her skirt whisked about her ankles as she'd enter the alcove, her right hand lifting up, fingertips just brushing along the edges of the arch. Feeling the rough chip of mineral and vine.

" _Kom in, kom in,_  
 _I avgrunden_

 _Följ ljuset._  
 _Följ mörkret._ "

The tune was quiet and made into a hum, less sung and more spoken. Gentle and calm like the creek. The hut was moderately dark in areas where the sun had yet to spill into the openings, and old, cracked furniture made of wood was strewn about. What Maeve was more interested in, however, was not the tarnished upholstery, but the fireplace tucked into the back wall. This area had potential. It always did. It was Maeve's ticket to some semblance of delight.

She stood before the empty hearth, placing her basket on an old table off to her right. Then she'd come to dip her hands into the deeper contents, pushing aside the organics, and instead going straight to the below. There would she feel the bowl of powder, but not before grasping a vile. Retrieving it, the cylindrical structure coming into her view, Maeve popped the cork and allowed the contents to soak her palms. Then, when all were stained of burgundy, Maeve would drop the vile on the ground and push her palms out towards the fireplace.

" _Barriärfrigöring_."

She said once.

" _Barriärfrigöring!_ "

She said twice.

Her fingers began to tingle. Nothing yet. Nothing _yet_.

" **Barriärfrigöring**!"

A spark of light, as if a blacksmith were slamming down on hot steel. The ends of her fingers pricked alive and her whole palms burst with an energy unlike any other. A mixture of yellow and orange, as if it were flame but more, rushed out into the fireplace and an odd, almost heatwave illusion drifted before her eyes causing her lips to pull back and into a teeth exposed grin. The hearth extended upwards, and, better yet, the barrier was dropped in this section.

Maeve had at least four hours before her Father would return from being out, an unfair truth that he could leave but she could not. Not now, however. No, she knew what to do!

Quickly grasping the basket in her hand, she dug around for the bowl filled with _Floo Powder_ and stepped into position. Kicking away some of the old soot down below, Maeve looked ahead and into the old cabin once more, her arm reaching out with a fist full of powder. With a clear, steady voice, she marked her destination:

"Kafé Fagnan!"

In a rush of green flame, the relatively cold fire swept up and consumed all of Maeve. She was removed entirely from the cabin, and even more, now outside of her 900 acre prison.

Maeve had timed it well. Kafé Fagnan was closed today so when her body spilled out of the fireplace there was no one present to gasp in surprise at her sudden arrival. Gammelstad was a Muggle town in Sweden, as far as she was aware, and so to show herself as a being of magical influence would not be good in the eyes of the ministry. She did, however, have to get better at her stepping and travel for currently she was resting on the ground with her skirt tinted by some old charcoal.

Gathering to her feet and dusting down her attire, Maeve adjusted the silver necklace around her neck, placing the opal at the end to rest accordingly between her collar bones. Grabbing her basket and ensuring all the contents were still inside, she swept to the back door of Fagnan, tampering with any Muggle cameras along the way as to not leave any trace of her invasion.

When she was outside the seventeen year old could not help but breathe in the refreshing air, already hearing the town so alive with bodies and sound. This was her third time having escaped her home and coming to Gammelstad, the closest area to where she lived. When her Father left Maeve tended to not know exactly where he was headed, all she knew was that he worked and brought projects back with him. What she was sure of was that his work was _not_ in Gammelstad, so this was a safe place to play and explore.

So off she went! Gone into the bustle of the streets and seeing the various people around her, faces alight with smiles or brows creased in thought; caught up in their own affairs. Many people wore jeans and shirts, some bridging on sweaters already, and Maeve seemed to stick out enough in her long, plaid skirt and white shirt with ruffles at the ends of her sleeves. Her pale hair hung down at her back, pieces of it entwined enough by a clip as to not get into her eyes, and when she walked a few glanced over, taking in the random woman in attire that seemed more old-fashioned than new.

She walked quietly for quite a while, browsing shops and purchasing a few items with currency she had managed to _nip_ on her last trip. Maeve opened up a paper bag containing some sweets and went to pop one in her mouth, but along the way ended up bumping into someone on the sidewalk, the candy dropping from her fingers and hitting the cement.

"Shit, sorry there."

She froze a tad at the comment. Thinking on her words. Aside shopkeepers, she did little in the ways of further conversation with others.

"It's okay, I have another. If I didn't though I would have been pressed."

Maeve eventually replied to the stranger, having not yet properly looked upon him as she went back to grab another from the bag. When she did manage to glance up there would her eyes be greeted with a man of dirty blonde locks, his hair medium in length and a big shaggy. His hazel eyes focused on her while she looked back, the two Swedish folks at odds as they sized one another up. When his stare seemed to last longer than usual that is when Maeve looked away, placing her brown bag in the basket and taking a step to the side.

"Am I in your way?"

"No, not at all. Sorry, again."

It seemed like that would be the end of it, except he didn't bother to walk away just yet.

"I've never seen you here before. Are you, do you live around here?"

He stepped to the side to let others walk past, still standing in front of Maeve but at a distance that was considered appropriate. One of his arms bent at the elbow as his hand ran through his hair, maybe an act of nerves or just not knowing what to exactly do. Maeve, on the other hand, only offered a half smile while her eyes lit up in amusement.

"Do you know all who live in Gammelstad?"

Her eyebrows lifted while his own face flushed a bit, laughing under his breath at her pointed question.

"I don't. That's a fair point."

There was a moment of silence. Maeve moved her basket about, eyes looking away and towards the streets. The lights Muggles used were gradually coming on as the sunlight slowly dimmed from the sky. Maeve had a little knot in her stomach as they both stood there, for she had never had much of a discussion with someone else before other than her Father and Lavender. Now, here she was, interacting with a young man of an attractive quality. It was enough to almost make her blush.

It was a bit of an awkward silence and seemed to be going no where, but Maeve was feeling a flip of excitement in her core and the idea of more banter made her wish to giggle. Especially with someone cute. So, just as he coughed and seemed to most likely be mentally scolding himself, Maeve quipped in by reaching her free hand out for a shake.

"I'm Maeve, and you are?"

He smiled.

"Jasper-"

The introduction paused just as a body thundered into him, knocking Jasper to the side before reaching out to grab at Maeve's basket. The thief went to tug and Maeve shouted, aiming to push him away as she tugged back, but while he released her bag he instead came forwards to snag the jewelry around her neck. The silver snapped from his force, digging into her skin in the process before breaking, then he was off.

Maeve stood there in shock, her hand coming to reach for her exposed neck, touch how barren it felt. Something strange proceeded then, as if air had been knocked from her lungs, as if she had been the one to be hit. Maeve stumbled to the right, her body leaning onto a fence, head swimming for a moment before everything seemed to regulate itself.

Jasper got to his feet and furrowed his brow, some people had come to stare at the two, then at the retreating figure.

"What the hell? Are you okay?"

He reached for her, a stranger to him, but Maeve just shook her head.

"I'm fine, thank you. He just got my necklace-"

"Hold on a minute, wait right here. HEY!"

Then he was off, chasing after the man who was still in a moderate distance. Maeve could hardly oppose, but then some wave of dizziness fell upon her again and she staggered away, thinking it may be best now to just head home. Her third day in town and robbed for a trinket around her neck being chased after a man who had bumped into her. The occurrence was something she almost could not process as she just walked off, not bothering to call after this Jasper and tell him it was foolish. Instead, she went to make her way back to Fagnan, possibly just head home, only just as she reached the area behind the kafé Maeve felt her entire world spin from under her. In a matter of minutes, Maeve Dahl was unconscious on the back steps of the place she had snuck in and out of.

_______________________________________

"Wake up! Maeve, you need to get up!"

Screams. The scent of smoke and burning wood. Was it a dream? Everything just felt surreal. Maeve opened her eyes to see a world of darkness, the sky clouded over by thick smog and the sound of people running. It took her a moment to process the words of someone nearby, but when she did, she squinted then jolted to the right at the sight of a face so close to her own. It was only when she recognized her Father that Maeve looked around, worry crossing her features as she understood, somewhat, what that meant.

"Dad? I- I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, well I did, but I swear I-"

"There's no time for this! You need to get up, we need to leave, _now_. They've found you and it's not **safe** here!"

The salt and peppered head of the man who raised her was crouched down, his arm extended and hand grasping her wrist, urging her to get up. She quickly got to her feet and couldn't help the alarming cough that fell from her mouth, the world swimming with smoke and ruin. Ash seemed to fall from the sky.

"What's going on? How did you know I was here? What's _happening?!_ "

He offered no reply yet, instead just instructing her to stay close and stay low. She followed behind him, down an alley as he peaked around the corner, his wand clutched in his hand and eyes darting about. At his mark would she move, keeping low as he said, aiming to run to the opposite side of the street. Her shoe caught on the edge of her skirt and it caused her to trip, bumping into his back just in time for his head to turn as he pushed her to the side, his body standing up and wand pointed forwards.

"Dad what are you doing?!"

" **STUPEFY**!"

Opal eyes watched as his spell flew from the wand, crashing into a body none too far away that was cloaked in all black with a pointed hood. Their face an enigma due to a mask crafted of metal. Maeve watched with wide eyes. She had no words, now, as the panic creeped up her throat and threatened to spill onto the ground. Her Father reached down to grab at her bicep, pulling her up again and saying nothing, just tugging her somewhere else. Away from the madness. Away from the chaos.

There was no time to speak as they just ran, darting behind objects whenever they could, watching as these men in cloaks spat out spells of emerald that marked the end of a life. Muggles of all sorts were strewn about, some bodies at odd angles, their lifeless eyes staring up into the smoky abyss.

She only paused her stride when she caught the face of a familiar. The dirty blonde haired stranger. Jasper.

"Oh my God, I know him. I mean, I met him. We ... he-"

"Maeve. I told you there is **_no time_** _._ I know this is alarming but you have to MOVE!"

She was grabbed again, no time to think or process anything. Nothing but the sight of his body in her mind while they ushered on, her father hitting back with spells at any person dripped in black. It was only when something flung up and into the sky that she turned her head, the screech of her voice in the air as her father was in the way, a piece of debris sailing towards him.

On instinct she brought her hands up, no wand in sight, something unforeseen expelling from her fingers again. Not even using words she watched the debris pause, not falling nor drifting. Just hanging there as if it were being cradled. Quickly her Father moved out of the way, and a violent burst of anger swelled in her heart, Maeve's opal eyes darkening as she pushed with all her might to toss the debris back wherever it came, coming to land on the person who had meant to originally cause harm.

At impact and release, a trail of blood ran from her nose and Maeve fell to her knees only for her Father to catch her. Her mind felt numb, her body weak, and quickly he scooped her up and towards a building that was yet to be marked by flame. Kicking open the door with his foot then shutting it behind him with the same, he looked to his daughter and grabbed at her jaw, trying to keep her awake and present.

"Maeve. Maeve darling, you need to open your eyes. Come on, open your eyes."

"What just-"

She groaned, a migraine swelling in the back of her head. Another cough fell out of her mouth as she turned her head, and as the outside from the window was fogged due to the calamity, the inside of this place was dark and without light.

"Good girl, good girl. Stay awake. Come now, to the fireplace. You need to go. It's not safe, I cannot protect you anymore."

Nothing made sense. None of it. One moment she was just out, enjoying the freedom, enjoying the day, and then people were dying. The entirety of Gammelstad was blazing. Was this the price for sneaking out? She didn't mean too. She didn't mean too!

Tears dotted in her eyes. Blurring her vision. Everything around her seemed darker, confusing; nothing made sense. Maeve was forced onto her feet and body pushed into a fireplace, her father's hands clutching portions of the floo powder with pieces slipping out and falling onto the wooden flooring below. Her hands smeared at her eyes, ruining any mascara that was on her face, and as she gained some focus she could hear her father forcing words at her again while he kept looking over his shoulder.

"Take this. **Now**. Now repeat after me: _The Leaky Cauldron._ "

"Dad, please. Just tell me whats going on, why do I need to leave?!-"

"DAMMIT MAEVE!"

The hand forcefully filled with powder opened up and dropped all the contents as she whimpered, her eyes freely crying now while she looked to her Father. Never having seen him so upset. Was this all her fault?

A crash came from outside. Another scream. Her eyes darted to the door but her Father just released some air from his lips and threw more floo powder in her hands, but after grabbed her face and stared directly into her eyes. One grubby thumb wiped away some of her tears. His expression beginning to soften.

"My little _undra_ , it is not your fault. It's mine. Please, just do as I say." He leaned in, his salted lips kissing her brow. Both hands still cupping her cheeks. "I love you so much. Just be strong for me, okay?"

Maeve breathed in, her eyes damp as she nodded quickly. She felt the grains of sand in her palm. The texture of each miniscule pebble. Her Father took a step back then, giving her space and looking at her to follow through with his words. Just as she reached her arm up, about to say the words, Maeve paused.

"You're coming right?"

He wanted to curse at her hesitation but instead he just smiled.

"I'll always be with you."

"That's not an answer."

Before he could retort there was a sudden explosion. The whole building shook. Glass from the window popped and Maeve felt the urge to scream. Looking for her Father and hearing his yell, screaming for her to do what he said, Maeve kept her hand out and repeated the words he told her too:

" **The Leaky Cauldron**!"

And just as she did, before the green flames swallowed her whole, she watched a cloaked figure slam through the door and say the words towards her Father that she knew were finite.

 _Avada Kadavra_.

Maeve screamed, then Gammelstad was gone. 


	3. 02 | 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒕

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death Eaters Bellatrix Lestrange and Corban Yaxley are walking among the chaos and pushing an old friend of theirs, Anders Dahl himself, into giving answers about where his daughter had gone. On the other side, Maeve encounters Alastor Moody and Ablus Dumbledore, learning some things while still being vaguely kept in the dark on others.

**"AHHH, HA, HA, HA!** Run, run, little piggy. Squeak until - you're - _dead!_ **!** "

The shrill screech of a mad woman echoed into the air, her wild, unruly mane of twisted coils sprawled out over her head. Wide, porcelain doll eyes of brown as dark as the bottom of the sea stared like a predator starved for prey, her lips cracked back, chapped along the skin and teeth an off-white beaming as she clutched onto her wand. A body curled back, legs kicking on the ground, scrambling and eyes searching. The Muggle's body was caked in blood and debris, chalked as if they took a dive in a pit of dirt. 

"S-snälla du! ... Snälla sluta! **Nej**!"

"Sna-sna-sna whot?! Cannot understand your babble, silly little worm. Now, time for nighty-night!"

Another cackle. Another screech. 

" **AVADA KADAVRA!** "

There it was again. A vibrant blast of emerald shooting out from the tip of mangled wood, the clawed and boney fingers lacing around the piece, knuckles white from the clutch. A horrifying sense of joy and exhilaration was etched into every crease of the deranged woman's face as she watched the life evaporate from the muggle before her. The helpless beast now a subdued one. She laughed again, snorting to herself before coming out to perform a skip, each step full of pep and vigor as if she were in the midst of a hearty game of quidditch. 

A man slithered out from the fog none too far away, his pointed hat upright and facing the above. No features could be caught from beneath the polished mask but his voice picked up, half-muddled from the cover. 

"We have a task, Bellatrix."

"Stop being so boorish, Yaxley. They're muggles. As if it matters."

Her head shot back towards the masked Corban Yaxley, a prominent figure known in the Ministry of Magic yet keeping hidden in plain sight. He refused to expose himself and hearing the Lestrange woman toss his name about so freely made him suck his teeth in irritation. Yes, he was proud to be a Death Eater, but he also was not a fool. 

Instead of baiting her with a retort knowing it would go no where, the man shot his head in the direction to where he had seen the girl and her caretaker run off. At first he hardly understood the reasoning for why The Dark Lord placed some of his plans on hold, demands of chasing after a teenager that did not even hold the name of the unremarkable Potter. Yet when he had seen her hold off a large piece of shattered stone, allowing it to remain still in the air and shoot it back, no wand in sight, there did it dawn on him. 

"You're lagging, dear boy!" 

His eyes narrowed beneath the mask at his colleague, watching her parade about in a ridiculous manner. Keeping hushed, he directed them towards where he knew the young woman lingered, following like a hound with a fresh scent. By the time they reached the darkened home, Bella raised her wand and decided on an elaborate entrance. A boost of power and ferocity that never shocked. 

Yaxley took the lead while she clapped to herself, smirking all the while as more pieces of the town crumbled around them. The happy little Swedish village now nothing but a scar. Wand up and ready, his eyes darted to the fireplace and watched the flames erupt in green, a curse bellowing from his lips just as Bella slipped from beside him and uttered another ending blow. 

"Pause yourself, you loaded spring."

The shot had missed, shattering through a nearby vase and causing the pieces to crack apart. The man in the room who had just let loose the very person they came to collect was on his knees, having fallen from the shock of Bellatrix's display. His hand scrambled to collect his wand from the ground but Yaxley intervened, coming over and stepping on it, threatening to apply further pressure while a little crack hit the air that was already swarming with burning wood.

"If it isn't Anders Dahl. How long has it been now? Seventeen years?"

Anders kept before him on his knees, his face trying to show little to no fear. His eyes sharp and analytical while Bellatrix stepped into the room, circling him like a vulture before racing towards the fireplace, sniffing about as if she'd be able to catch the taste of their hunt on her tongue. A little growl emitted from her throat before she turned to face their old friend, his body still unwavering.

"Aren't you a naughty boy. The Dark Lord is not impressed with you, oh none at all."

Bellatrix taunted him, clicking her tongue at the end. Anders remained voiceless. 

"You had a job, Anders. You were one of the best of us! What happened to you?! **DISGRACE!** _"_

The mad woman carried on, walking up to him and shouting the last word in his face, spit flying out and coating along his cheekbone. Her wand jutted out, the tip pushing into his cheek, indenting it. He still remained quiet, unphased, as if the current events could do little on his sanity. 

Yaxley watched with mild interest. He had not been in the loop on the arrangement with Dahl. Yes, he knew him, and yes he had worked alongside him during the former times of The Dark Lord's first reign. Dahl had been one of the many vicious, skilled in a plethora of spells, but especially well versed in potions. He had concocted many things that aided in the Death Eaters former success. Just before the fall of Lord Voldemort due to that insufferable Harry Potter, Yaxley was aware Dahl had been given a task and then, he was gone.

Now, however, here they were. Face to face. 

"WHERE DID SHE GO-"

"Bellatrix!"

Her head turned around, face partially concealed due to some strings of free curls, and eyes wide but riddled with rage. Yaxley's own was still covered but he dismissed looking at her, instead, he kept his concealed gaze focused on the man of the hour. They would not have been asking such questions if she had not decided on making such an elaborate entrance, in fact, they would have probably heard the destination. Alas, here they were.

"You know we'll find her. I'm sure if you simply informed us of her exact headings you may be allowed back into the ranks, even if at the lowest chain."

"You know as well as I do Riddle isn't a man to follow."

"How **DARE** you call him that!"

Pulling the wand back it was the sharp slap of Bellatrix's hand that came down, connecting with the man's face and bringing his head to turn sharply the opposite way, body staggering a bit and needing to lean on the palm of his hand. Some blood swelled along his lip, slowly dripping onto the floor in little droplets. 

It was clear as daylight that Dahl had been polluted. Their vision no longer shared. To gain information from him would be useless. Futile. Yaxley turned to Bella as she raised her wand again, pointing at him for the last time.

"We'll find her, you traitor. And when we do, we'll make sure she becomes a good little Death Eater... just like she was always meant to be."

_____________________________________________________

Maeve's body thrust through the hearth of a foreign place, her skirt riding up just enough that her knees were exposed and the landing caused a scrape. Skin peeled back and apart, portions of blood streaking along the floorboards and parts of her attire. Her body was bent forwards, palms flat, fingers pressing into the wood and beginning to ache from the dig. Before she knew it she was crying. Sobbing. Hysterical tears and cracks of her voice filled the room and anyone inside it, thankfully only about six, turned to stare at the spectacle of such an arrival. 

As her body went lower to the ground, forearms lying and brow along the sleeve of stained white, someone eased up towards the tattered mess of a girl. One step was loud and heavy, while another equally loud but more of a thump, as if it was not made of flesh but something else. None of it focused in for her, however, as she was too busy drowning herself into a pit of sorrow. 

"Oi, c'mon now. Up, up. You're ah mess an' making ah scene."

" _Dra åt helvete_."

The foreign language spat out in a cursed whimper, muffled by her continuous cries. The man pinched his bridge before easing down, trying to get closer to the woman only before turning to those in the pub and smacking them away with a gesture. He'd look to the bartender, not saying anything, and in a few moments he began to usher everyone out until the place was only consisting of himself and the girl. 

"I know you speak English. You're Maeve, correct?"

" **DRA ÅT HELVETE!** "

There was another sniffle before one hand bawled into a fist, coming down to slam into the floor and produce a dent, the wood splintering from the force. This seemed to shock her into silence, her eyes opening a bit and body sitting up, staring with wide eyes at what had just transpired. The man nearby watched in silence, now, before letting out a gruff 'Hm'.

"I'm Alastor Moody, an' I'm here to help. I knew yer Father and he sent me to collect."

"What's happening to me? Where is he?"

Her voice was weak and her accent caused the words to be a bit battered. Quiet that it could almost be dismissed as just a mumble, but Moody heard her well enough to offer a reply. 

"I'll explain in due time, but we need to leave. You're not safe here."

"Why do you say this? Why did **he** say this? I want answers **NOW**."

Something rattled nearby and Moody just held his breath, his bulging eye rolling about the room, scanning it every which way before focusing back on her along with his other. When Maeve looked up, pieces of her light hair sticking to her face, opal eyes that resembled a crystal storm widened as she took in the sight of him. Her shock did not phase the man, but if anything, he did grunt in irritation on her lagging about. While Moody could understand her confusion and need to understand, answers would be better given in a more private and secured space. The Leaky Cauldron was not it.

"Listen. I know you're probably sick of hearing it, but answers cannot be given yet. Not here. It isn't secure. Anyone could be listening. Get to your feet an' I'll take you to Hogwarts. Dumbledore will have all your attention."

Maeve used the end of her sleeve to rub at the tip of her red nose, and at the extend of Moody's pudgy hand, she took it and brought herself up to a standing position. There was so much going on in her mind, in her _life_ , and worst of it being the guilt she felt. If she had just stayed inside. If she had just listened. Her Father would still be- he'd still be...

Another sob choked out following a hiccup. Moody nodded, trudging towards a back entrance to the pub while she followed like a wounded pup, bits of her skirt singed and shorter at the back than the front. Her arms curled around her front, pushing into her bust and pressing into her sides. She felt so cold. So alone. So _afraid_. 

This Alastor did not say much else throughout this venture. He was silent for words minus his occasional huff from lugging himself around, one hand clutching on a cane before stopping at a brick wall. When her vision was less blurred she'd watch him face her, thinking he was about to address the wall but instead, saying something that she knew would make her stomach churn. 

"We're going to apparat. Are you familiar?"

Maeve shook her head.

"Right, well, just hold onto me an' don't let go. You'll feel an urge to vomit just don't get it on my shoes when we stop."

She just stared at him when he finished, her movement full of hesitation before he rolled his bulging eye. 

"I don't damn well bite. Hurry up."

The amount of times she'd been told to 'hurry up', 'move', and 'just listen' was beginning to grate on her patience. Maeve wanted to fight back but she knew it would be pointless, so instead she abided, glaring daggers at the stranger who seemed to know her Father before gripping his leather clad arm. Soon enough he pulled out his wand and muttered the spell to get the job done. Maeve knew what apparating was, she even watched her Father do it on numerous occasions, but of course she never did it herself due to her living situation. 

To feel the sudden influx of the world being torn out from under you, everything spinning and twisting as if it were some sick push into another dimension, well, she understood exactly the comment about throwing up. As soon as the scenery refocused and her hand released from around Moody's arm, Maeve took three steps to the left before lurching forward, the contents of her stomach spilling out and onto the stone. 

"Ah, to feel the first shift of the universe. I remember it well."

Moody's heavy steps walked off somewhere in the room while a calm and soothing voice whispered out and towards Maeve. Boney fingers reached towards her holding a periwinkle handkerchief lined with lace. She looked up and took the garment, using it to rub away the contents that speckled her lips, and when her eyes found the owner of the hushed tone she'd come to widen her eyes like never before. 

It was, indeed, Albus Dumbledore. The very one that she read about in her books pertaining magical history. The man must be at least one hundred and ten years old, minimum, and to see him before her would have rendered her truly speechless if they were exchanging pleasantries during a different time. This hour, unfortunately, was not enough to completely sway her. The venom of her harsh life slapped at her, hissing like an angry feline, and there did her eyes harden and turn away. 

Albus looked towards his old friend, his long beard swaying along with the gold string that held it close together. 

"Thank you for the deliverance, Moody. I'll take it from here."

"Of course, Albus. I'll be heading back to The Order and grab a few of us to scan the perimeter."

Dumbledore nodded, not replying further while Moody dispersed from the circular room, his body sucked into a void and gone. Now it was just Maeve and the infamous magician, both silent while she stood up, her hand clutching the cloth while the flat of her palm rested along her midsection. The ends of her fingers could feel a portion of her skin, clearly some of her shirt was gone at the side. 

The old man looked to her, a sad smile on his face before turning towards his desk, walking up the few steps and heading towards his chair. Once he was situated he flicked his wand, causing another chair to drag towards them, aligned enough to face Maeve and offer without word a chance to sit down. She didn't.

Instead, she just stared. 

"Maeve Dahl, the daughter of Anders Dahl. You've been through quite a lot from what I have heard, and I know you have a plethora of questions you would like answered."

"Where is my father?"

"In truth, I'm not certain. In estimation..." His voice trailed off and Maeve understood what he was implying. She saw the green flash. She remembered everything that happened. The handkerchief that had been riddled with her bile had magically cleaned itself, so when she lifted up to her lips while she choked back a sob her nose inhaled the scent of fresh flowers and honey.

"Please, Ms. Dahl. Sit down and just try to breathe."

It was then she finally heeded to his words, walking up the steps and plopping down into the chair, her body slumping against the tall back. 

"I know this is a lot to take in. I understand you've lived quite a sheltered life and things were quite difficult, now even more so, however I must let you know that your Father did so to ensure your safety."

Another sob racked her body and she dug into the cloth harder, trying to muffle the cries and quell her hiccups. The thought of everything being gone, her only parent, gone, it was causing her more strain than the actual pain of feeling like a caged bird. Right now she wanted to just wake up from this horrible nightmare, go back to her quiet existence, smell the breakfast tray that Lavender would bring her in the morning, hear the annoyed jest of her Father informing her that it was time to get ready for a lesson in whatever they were studying that day. 

But that would not happen. This was reality now, no matter how hard she wished different. 

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have left. I should have listened and stayed-"

"It is not your doing, Maeve."

Her red eyes looked towards the old wizard, his body leaning into the desk now, forearms on the table. His pale eyes were full of warmth and sympathy. 

"Eventually you would have been sought out. Anders was aware he could not keep you there for long, but he did so to ensure you were not influenced by those of ill means. I am certain you must know you are not like others."

Maeve was quiet, just listening, staring. Yes. She picked up on it. While her Father mentioned he needed a wand, as all wizarding folk did, she did not. She could say spells and use them freely, sometimes just think them if she focused hard enough. The display in the carnage however... and The Leaky Cauldron... that was something she could not explain. 

"You are a special young witch, Maeve. Someone who has great potential but needs heavy guidance to control what you cannot comprehend just yet. Anders dedicated his life to trying to ensure you would fair well knowing the cost. He did things-" Dumbledore cleared his throat, picking his words carefully. It was not picked up on by Maeve, instead she just thought he was trying to keep himself together. 

"Certain things to make sure you would not fall into the wrong hands. Alas, one cannot keep something locked away forever. It was inevitable." He got up from his chair now, the legs scraping along the ground. Albus walked towards Maeve, coming closer but being slow, trying not to spook her. When she did not react negatively he'd bend down, his hand coming down onto her own that rested on the arm of the seat.

"I've been entrusted to guide you when the time came that your Father could not. He may have taught you about the workings of our world, and some of the Muggles, but he also tried to keep your strengths in check. You had a necklace, yes?"

"Yes. A silver one with an opal. Dad said it matched my eyes."

Albus quirked a little smile, nodding after she spoke. 

"That necklace was infused with a powerful charm to not only conceal your whereabouts, but also limit your strengths. When it left your neck, those strengths poured out into the world as if someone popped the cork on an shaken bottle of champagne. The task now is to aim to hone your skills, in the meantime, however, we must keep this quiet."

Maeve bit the inside of her cheek. She listened to each word he said but felt like chucking them aside. Who cares about what she could do, she wanted to know what happened now. She wanted to see her Father. She wanted to... wanted to do things she knew were now just a fantasy. 

Her body slumped further into the seat while Albus got back to his feet, venturing up and towards one of the bookcases that lined the walls. His fingers trailed the spines, tutting to himself as he searched for whatever he was looking for. Once he found it, pulling it from its home, he'd open it up only to pull out another string of silver. Something having been hidden in its midst. Then he turned to her, holding it up, the silver glistening in the light.

"This will do what the other one had before, except instead of bottling your abilities it will keep them in check, at least to some degree. You'll still need to practice and be aware." 

He came back over, placing the thin, silver chain on her lap. Maeve looked down, analyzing it, before pulling it up after placing the cloth down. Then she looked to Dumbledore once more, hearing him continue as he walked back to his chair.

"From here on out you cannot use your real name. I will be frank with you, Ms. Dahl, that you may hear terrible things about your Father. He did things no sane man would be proud of but he was a good man in the end. Do trust me on this."

"Okay."

It was the first word she said in a while during his explanations. A sense of exhaustion was beginning to wash over her, and her head felt heavy. The urge to just collapse and sleep was near. Dumbledore must have sensed this for he picked up the rest of his words with haste. Keeping it concise and to the point.

"You will need to use a wand to blend in. There is a trunk here of items that I believe belong to you from your Father, and tomorrow you shall be tended by The Sorting Hat to be placed into your proper house. For now, you should rest. I have a spare room full of odds and ends that I've ensured has a bed inside it until you have a dorm."

Maeve finally got up from the chair, nodding limply and following behind the man while he directed her towards the space. When they reached the door, it opening with a low creak, it was a rather small spot but well enough to fit a single mattress and some additional equipment. 

"Feel free to use a cleaning spell and, my dear, I am sincerely sorry."

His hand reached to her shoulder and she jumped a tad, but relaxed when it turned out to be light and surprisingly comforting. Then the door shut behind her and Maeve was left all alone. Entirely. In a way she never thought of before. 

Her body dragged itself towards the bed, the mattress dipping from her weight, shoes being kicked off her feet and across the room. The thought of tidying up did not even seem appealing right now, instead she proceeded onto her side, curling her knees towards her chest and arms hugging the single pillow, finally releasing a true and hearty wave of cries. 

To hell with being 'Special'. Why couldn't she have been just like everyone else?

_____________________________________________________

Thank you for taking the time to read and get this far in my story!  
I know it seems somewhat slow right now, but I promise it picks up in the next chapter.  
I hope you are enjoying Maeve and would love to hear your thoughts. I do also promise that she is not obscenely over-powered, her abilities are just sporadic in strength due to her lack of control and emotional instability. She'll develop more later on, I assure you!

For now, let us allow her some rest and then let the true curtains pull back,  
and the real games begin. 

**xo, D.D.**


	4. 03 | 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒆

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forced to take on an alias to ensure she is better protected, Maeve completes the sorting ceremony and ends up making a new friend in her house. During this development of companionship, there does she lock eyes with a familiar platinum blonde who seemed to have trouble looking away.

**SLEEP. WHAT WAS SLEEP** if not for a brief taste of death? The only difference is death was greeted with silence, however sleep enabled dreams, and dreams shifted into terrors. Maeve had been restless all night, managing to slumber for but an hour. Her back ended up lounging along the cot, eyes staring up and towards the round ceiling, counting the stones, the webs, whatever she managed to see through the dark which admittedly was not much until she applied _Lumos_.

Her hand held up and above her, an orb of light expelling from her palm, soon pushing out to drift further up. The orb swayed as she guided her hand from left to right, it managing to follow her motions as if it were connected by string. When the peak of sunlight slipped through the curtains of the only window in this small enclosure she barely blinked, her cheeks still caked from lines of water and muddled makeup. Maeve was aware that she looked just as horrid as she felt. 

There was no knock on her door yet. No sound of life beyond the walls. When she finally found some strength she came to push up, her socked toes hitting the dusted grounds. Maeve breathed deeply, eyes closing, taking a moment. Only as soon as her eyes shut the constant replay of the horrors of the former night kept going around and around like a carousel. 

A carnival of nightmares. 

Maeve opened her eyes, no longer feeling the urge to cry. Instead, she was sufficiently numb. If anything there was a darkness lurking in her mind, in her heart, a rage unlike any other that had yet to spill. She was angry about her predicament. Furious on her Father's murder. Fumed about the senseless destruction of an innocent town full of innocent people. _Jasper_.

She did not know him well. In fact, not at all. Yet he seemed sweet. His smile was lovely. He was the first boy to truly take notice of her and push for light hearted conversation. What would his family do now that he was dead? Or were they dead, too?

Hands balled into fists, grasping the blanket beneath her before she slammed them down and stood up, refusing to just keep wallowing here like a foolish imbecile. She wanted to do something. Anything! She wanted to hunt down those beasts and execute them, watch their bodies crack, red seep from all the torment, death and die and- 

Maeve stopped. She breathed. Tried to correct and calm herself. These thoughts were vicious and it began to scare her, this rage she never felt. Some sort of whisper, too, in the back of her mind almost egging her on. Always having been there but duly ignored. 

Then, finally, came a knock, and she jumped. 

"Maeve, it is almost time. Are you ready?"

Was she ready? She wanted to laugh. 

No. No she was not ready. Not physically nor metaphorically. Breathing out through her lips she mustered a reply, facing the wall ahead of her with blank eyes while her mouth just said enough to appease. 

"I'll be out in six minutes."

That seemed to do enough for Dumbledore. His footsteps retreated and she was left alone, and after sitting for another minute, Maeve finally got up and doused herself in a cleaning spell. Her clothes were still tattered, yes, but her hair was no longer wild and her face clean; makeup perfected. Simple but enough to hide the pain.

She turned to the trunk now, it resting at the end of the bed, and bend down to unlock the latch. The contents had various trinkets from home. Books, journals, her favorite quill,... pictures. Grabbing onto one in a frame, it was her with her Father, the two of them smiling over a freshly baked pie. His hand reached out to dot her nose with whipping cream and Lavender, their house elf, popped up from the bottom with a wide grin and bright, large eyes. Lavender was no servant but a member of their little family, and she was never bound to them, but chose to say due to proclaiming that 'Master Dahl' saved her life and so she'd be there for him in exchange. 

Once she placed the picture down she searched throughout the rest of the contents, fishing out a simple uniform and robe that was all black and only sporting the Hogwarts crest with all the houses. Quickly she changed, discarding her clothes in the trunk, and grabbed the stick that she'd have to use as a wand. It was a pretty thing, polished and made of fine acacia wood with a phoenix feather core. Her Father gave it to her when she was eight instead of eleven, for that is when she began to discover she could do things without needing one. He insisted it was good to understand how to use magic _with_ it, when the time came for civilization.

Pushing it in the deep pockets of her robe, Maeve opened the door and swept into Dumbledore's office, and he was there, standing patient with a soft smile with another in the room. This one was an older woman with an angular face and sharp chin, her grey hair bunched into a tight bun with a flopped hat on her head. 

"This is Professor McGonagall. She is the Head of House for Gryffindor and also your Transfiguration instructor."

"It is a pleasure, Ms. Dahl. I understand you are to be sorted in the dining hall this breakfast hour. There are two others, as well, who have joined us rather late, which is good timing so you're not alone."

The phrase of 'good timing' stung Maeve a tad but she did not show it. The blow more to her head and heart than her face. She did well to rationalize, thinking on how that given the circumstances, perhaps it was good that she was not the only one to walk the aisle. The thought made her stomach lurch as if she were to be forced into another apparition. Maeve went from being a social outcast, her only attention from two people in her life, now to being a person on display for the entirety of the school to see. So many faces and people.

Dumbledore must have seen her apprehension for he piped up, doing his best to calm her nerves. 

"I know you may be thinking why not just sort you here, in seclusion, but given that the first ceremony only happened yesterday, and others are part of the mix, it's just proper and regular. We tend to have at least two or three late arrivals."

She was still silent, just nodding and taking it all in. McGonagall offered a weak grin, turning back to Dumbledore with inquisitive eyes. 

"How is she to be introduced, Albus?"

"Ah, that is the ladies decision. Have you thought on a name?"

One foot dug into the floor, pushing against the stone as she picked at the hem of her pleated skirt. The inside of her cheek proceeded to be chewed as she thought. All night it did not occur to her to figure out an alias, and truthfully, she did not want to. Her Father picked her name and she liked it, but, it was the rational thing. The smart thing. 

To just parade about after her Father instructed and sacrificed himself for her safety. Well, it would be all in vain. She couldn't do that. 

"Um... Lucinda? Maybe? Lucinda Olsson?"

Albus blinked but nodded, another smile reaching his eyes as he hands clasped together at his front. 

"Excellent. Lucinda Olsson it is."

Professor McGonagall nodded as well, smiling towards Maeve, _Lucinda_ , before directing her towards the exit of the office. Dumbledore mentioned how he'd be along soon and so she was off with the other Professor, the tone silent between them before she began to discuss the process of being sorted and where she would wait. The new Lucinda listened intently, nodding as she tried to intake it all but unable to help that her attention waned. She focused, instead, on her surroundings. 

Hogwarts was a splendor of fine craftmanship. The ancient architecture, deeply designed stone and wood, everything well kept and pristine. Some dust lingered, along with webs, but over-all it was a magnificent construct. This castle truly felt like a castle, and if she were here on different circumstances, Maeve would have surely been giddy at such a placement. Her Father had mentioned he went to Hogwarts in his youth, but his house she could not recall. Whatever it was, hopefully she ended up in the same one? Uphold his name without actually doing so.

The idea of upholding it did make her suck on her tongue. Did she really know him in the end? Dumbledore mentioned he did terrible things, but what sort of terrible things did he mean. Yes, he gave her some answers but they were vague and rather empty. Open-ended. Nothing was entirely direct. Of course, he intended it that way. Probably not to bombard her but it was infuriating. She was practically a grown woman and had a right to know. It was _her_ life after all.

A thousand thoughts rolled in her head, one after another, both as ever consuming and dreadful as the next. There was a spike of anxiety. Over-thinking. Her heart began to race and she didn't even realize Professor McGonagall had stopped walking until the woman's hand reached out and grabbed at her hood, causing her to lurch back, almost stumble, before standing upright and normal. She looked over to the woman, her eyes blinking and one brow raised towards Maeve.

"Förlåt..." The peak of Swedish tongue slipped out and McGonagall shook her head but released her hold on the hood, now turning around to the two other souls standing in front of such massive, oak doors. There was one small, rather timid boy who must have been a first year, and a girl perhaps in their third... maybe fourth? She was not entirely sure. Both seemed as nervous as Maeve, the only difference is she aimed to push it into the pits of her stomach while the others wore it across their face like seeing an old man naked and dancing the waltz. 

"Now, while I insist you to always be on time in the future,-" McGonagall glanced to them all, even Maeve, as to ensure the charade was in full. "We will, however, commence with what was supposed to be concluded yesterday. Stand up straight and wait here, once the door opens be sure to walk down the center strip and then await your name to be called." 

Fuck. There it was. Just as McGonagall left the three to their own, the door slamming shut behind her, a wave of anxiety crashed into her like a tsunami. Maeve breathed as deeply as she could, exhaling through her lips and hands clutching and unclutching at her sides. The young boy looked as if he was walking to his very hanging, and that expression at least allowed her to snicker under her breath, oddly bringing her entertainment to distract her from reality. 

Time ticked on and nobody said anything, then there it was, the door magically prying apart and the halls coming alive with ...åh jävla, _way too many eyes_. Dumbledore stood off to the side while a simple stool was situated directly in the center of, what appeared to be, a stage. There were so many people staring now, awaiting for the people outside the door, her included, to walk. Maeve stood there frozen and it took her second, but as soon as the others stepped, it registered in her mind but it was too late. She was lagging. 

Maeve stepped through the doors, blinking, keeping her shoulders back, and doing her best to shrug off the worry. 

'It's just like walking in the market. Get over it.' She repeated to herself. The comment seemed to work. 

People whispered. Hundreds of voices jumbling together but too quiet to make out. Eyes peered at them with curiosity, some with rolled eyes due to their tardiness. Maeve caught the sight of a girl who seemed to be around her age with incredibly curled and fluffed hair of brown shaking her head, her lips pressed and mouthing something about 'terrible' and 'late'. Instantly she couldn't help but feel a spark of annoyance flicker in her eyes, staring at the woman as if a dagger would go to pierce her heart. The girl seemed to notice and upon their connection her face drained of all color and she leaned into a red head off to her right, muttering something that caused him to turn as well. 

She put her head back and forwards, lifting her chin now, feeling less bothered than prior. Other eyes watched her like a hawk but she paid them no mind, and once she reached the front she stood and waited, hearing each name be called out and get through the tradition. Maeve almost forgot she was standing alone until there came a lift of her name, or at least, her fake one.

" **Lucinda Olsson** _._ "

A brief moment of silence fluttered back to whispers, her name rousing comments it seemed. Well, the truth of society never failed her. Humans were a gossipy bunch. Maeve walked up the steps, her body slowly turning to face them all, bottom touching the wooden stool as she fluffed out the back of her robe and extended her right leg over her left. Her plan was to fake it until she made it. Show no weakness. Stay strong. Act like you belong.

When the hat touched her head there did whispers drift into her ear, speaking as if they have known one another for quite a while. As if he, _it_ , was some sort of therapist.

" _I'm no it, Madame. I prefer the 'He' pronoun, if you would be so inclined_."

Maeve's eyes widened, head tilting in surprise. So he could read her thoughts? Deadly. The Sorting Hat chuckled. 

" _Yes, quite so. Now, let us see here... what to do with you. Where to go. Ah yes, I know exactly-_ "

" **SLYTHERIN!"**

The transition from whisper to shout made her want to pour hot water in her ears. The Hat's voice boomed throughout the room, and like the other two, there did applause erupt from the stretch of table that was reserved for the Slytherin house. McGonagall grabbed the hat from her head but none before it whispered something else in her ear. Something that made a little slither of fear run down her back.

" _Do be careful now. Do be careful indeed..."_

It was less the words and more how it voiced them. Eerie and smooth, like he knew something she didn't. Could it read more than it let on? Not just brainwaves and thoughts but the future, too? Maeve had no time to question it before she was guided off the stage and her body walked towards the Slytherin table. She did not even notice how her robes lined immediately with green. A reoccurring color, it seemed, that marked itself deep into her soul. 

While the space to find a spot seemed rather tight-knit, someone suddenly shoved a person to the side, a girl around her age with hair the same hue as a fresh pumpkin. She had high cheekbones and a wide smile, and her chocolate eyes fixated on Maeve like finding a brand new toy in a shop. Whomever had been to her left had surely been pushed to the side, and Maeve came over, no place else to linger anyway, and took a seat.

Dumbledore took the podium and proceeded with a little speech but during this time Maeve was unable to listen, for this nameless girl looked to her and offered a wide grin full of teeth. Her right hand shot out, aiming to be taken, and slowly Maeve stared at it before proceeding to connect.

"How wonderful for a new face to be placed in our house, and one of quality. I'm Arabella Axeling, Prefect for Slytherin House."

It surprised her how forward this Arabella was, how welcoming, even through the air of ego that Maeve could almost bite into. She wasn't sure how to proceed given her lack of womanly exchanges, but being entirely alone throughout this venture was probably not the best, so Maeve tried her best.

"Lucinda Olsson. Pleased to meet you." 

Her smile did not reach her eyes but she did at least do so. If Arabella caught it or not Maeve was unsure for she was either good at hiding the knowledge or disregarding it. 

"So I heard! Is that an accent I detect? You do not sound like an England native."

"Um, no, I'm Swedish."

"Ugh, that's so cool. I went to Sweden once for my fourteenth birthday, my father was trying to insist on Hawaii but I just _had_ to see the mountains and the men. Are they beautiful everywhere? I mean, from what I saw, _yes_."

Goodness, she did talk. Arabella had brought her elbow onto the table, chin resting on her knuckles while her eyes batted her lashes, entranced by whatever Maeve had to say, or didn't. Either way she was staring, and staring intently. It was hard to figure out her words since Maeve hardly knew what all the men looked like even though she lived there. Then she thought of Jasper, and there came a weak smile while turning her head.

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Well, if you're heading back for the holidays and we hit off like I _know_ we must, you have to take me along at some point. To smell that clean air and ugh, the summer. I've read up on Muggle Vikings and, sure, loads of Muggles are totally lame but those bad boys? Steal my heart-"

Arabella went on and on, chatting up a storm while Maeve just kept quiet and allowed her to carry through. It was sort of nice, in an odd way, to have someone do all the talking for once that didn't focus on bad news and despair. Maeve was not entirely sure how to engage in a conversation with another yet, maybe not ready, so the fact Arabella was keeping it going for the both of them was welcomed. 

Dumbledore had finished his speech and caught Maeve's eye, offering her another smile before he took his seat and the tables lined with more food than she thought possible. It was then her table companion made an ' _Oh! Pumpkin Juice!_ ' exclamation and dragged her goblet to her cherry stained lips, silent for a moment while Maeve just stared at the food, looking at her empty plate and not feeling a huge urge to consume. 

Then she felt eyes on her. A penetrative, focused stare that didn't seem to waver like the others had. While the looks from before were here and there, some still happening, this felt different. Slowly Maeve turned her head just an inch, mainly her eyes shifting downwards, further along the table on the opposite side of her own position. Her opal hues connected with intense, iceberg irises, each belonging to a pale man with platinum hair. His plate had food on it but he had yet to bite, and a body to his left nudged his side, whispering something in his ear that he did not bother to reply too. 

They just stared at each other. Silent and long. His eyes holding a pain that she felt she could resonate with. Maeve felt her lips go dry so instinctively her teeth dragged along the bottom, pulling it in and licking it to rid of the chap. This innocent move was clearly a foolish one, or at least an unintentional bold one, for the blonde boy left her eyes to look at her plump mouth, only breaking this odd connection when Maeve swallowed and Arabella popped her head between them, a piece of omelet on her fork. 

Oh how she thanked Arabella without actually doing so. This odd spell was broken and she looked to the ginger, delivering a nervous grin. 

"That was intense, wasn't it?"

"What was?" Maeve blinked. Her alabaster cheeks tinting a slight rose before she finally decided to reach out and grab some food, not really paying attention to what, just doing anything to bring her focus back to other things than whatever the hell just happened. 

"Malfoy. He was eyeing you like a piece of meat. But, might I say, bravo on the lip bite. You work fast, dontcha? I'll warn you though, I had him once upon a time, not that impressive." The fork popped in her mouth then and Maeve's cheek deepened in hue, her head looking away and idly bringing a grape to her mouth. 

"It wasn't like that, I mean, I don't really know what happened."

"No need to explain. Hey, I support you." Arabella winked, nudging her with her elbow and digging into her food again, albeit rather prim and proper. Like one would expect from a house of influence and wealth. "It's sloppy seconds, sure, but if it's any consolation he can kiss relatively well. I just prefer dark hair on a man, and you know, less brooding. Confidence is always more attractive than outright arrogance, don't you agree?" 

Maeve coughed, not at all expecting for breakfast to go on like this. She didn't expect any of what happened, really. The rest of the meal went along just the same, Arabella discussing boys and fashion tips from _Witch Kiss Weekly,_ then aiming to bring it towards classes and a schedule. Maeve mainly listened, her brain going back to the events of the other day, and the knot in her stomach was back only replaced more with a sinking boulder. She felt her hands curl into fists again in her lap, hidden in her robes, and the tips of her nails threatened to almost break skin until she managed to calm herself down again with a few easy breaths and mental chants. 

When food concluded and bodies lifted up, many began to head towards their arranged classes and that's when a new worry announced itself: She had no idea what her classes were, and had no books. Arabella stuck to her side as they left the great hall and catching on to the furrowed brow of Maeve, and perhaps her lack of bookbag and parcels, she linked their arms together and directed her about. 

"I'll show you to the common room, usually all books are populated in your dorm along with your schedule after sorting. Typically since sorting happens at the end of the day, giving you time to prep, you late bloomer you." She teased at her tardiness to which Maeve forced a little laugh at, following along as if it were just due to being poor with time management. "I also don't mind being late, I have herbology first and um, gross, my nails are not excited for Professor Sprouts ridiculous need to have us dig through dirt. I think I'm gonna switch out, don't know why anyone would think I'd want that tragedy on my hands. Me? A botanist? Puh-lease, that's a Longbottom thing, not a tightbottom like myself." 

So she was tugged along. The Slytherin Prefect guiding her through the winding halls that seemed so vast that she was sure people got lost all the time. They needed road signs. Instead of going up, however, they went down. When they reached the moving stairs she couldn't help but gape, finding the way they shifted and turned to be quite intriguing, but also confusing. Arabella tugged her to not lose herself, and the halls grew darker, candles coming on as they went on. When they stopped, both of them before an empty stone wall, Maeve went to inquire until Arabella laughed.

"Just watch. _Dragon Fang_."

In seconds a ripple effect transpired and a door revealed itself, sliding open to show a rather dark, modern gothic style with deep jewel tones, many of emerald, silver, and black. 

"I should have known." Maeve rolled her own eyes and Bella, to which she would just refer to her as, lifted another chuckle. 

"The password changes every month, so be sure to stay in the loop. You'd be _shocked_ at how many idiots end up sleeping in the halls because they cannot remember a simple word."

The two ventured inside, door closing behind them but not disappearing since they were on the other side now. Bella led Maeve towards the stairwells that was marked 'LADIES', its winding curve leading somewhat up while the sound of water swam around them, the tone both eerie and quite relaxing. She was always fond of the ocean. Never been since she lived more inland of Sweden, but the pictures always made her feel at ease. Like there was always a whole new world at her fingertips. 

Bella checked along a few of the silver plated signs on the wooden doors, looking at the names that were imprinted, trying to find Maeve's in the mix. Once she did she smiled, making a 'Tada' motion with her hands, but turned back and then frowned.

"Oh no, not good."

"What? What's not good?" 

A little surge of panic. What now? What was it? Bella frowned at the name plate, each one consisting of four. Her manicured finger reached up and tapped beside one with a quick snap, the name _PANSY PARKINSTON_ finely printed. It was then Maeve felt her shoulders relax. Just a person, okay, she can deal with that. 

Could she?

Bella looked at her with a little frown.

"Pansy is ridiculous. She's a little sheep who does anything to _try_ and stay relevant, clearly never succeeds. Anyway, she leeches onto Malfoy like a bitch in heat. I'd watch out for her, because I am absolutely **certain** she would have seen the way you two exchanged hungry eyes in the hall."

It was then she scoffed and rolled her eyes, arms coming to cross along her chest. What Bella said didn't sound that bad. Sure, she's read stories about mean girls, but really, how terrible could she be? Maeve liked to think of herself as relatively strong willed and capable. Besides, the stare meant nothing. It was an accident. Malfoy probably was just curious about the late girl who got sorted into the same house as him.

"Oh please, I'm sure she's nothing."

"I assure you, she is, but still, be careful? If you need assistance though I'm sure we can concoct something in potions to shake her up. Like a hair withering spell, or even better, a hair _growing..._ like all over her body."

This is when Maeve finally, truly laughed. The thought making her shoulders bob up and down and eyes squint shut. Bella smirked to herself, pleased at her achievement, before opening the door and showing her the bedroom that was now her own. Sort of her own, anyway. Her 'name' was on the one to the left and the rooms were surprisingly spacious, giving her enough space for her own armoire, trunk, side-table, and double bed with curtains to close. While Bella hunted for Maeve's schedule, she looked around around the room, opening the armoire and noticing how it was filled with her own clothes. A shelf made of quartz was tucked just off to the side, a few books lounging along it, some of it indeed her texts for class. 

"Here it is! Oh, **yes!** We actually do have Potions together, oh and Charms! And Care of Magical Creatures! And Astronomy, oh this is perfect. Sure, not all of them, but score, right?"

Bella handed the parchment to Maeve and she scanned the list, catching all of her classes for this semester. Aside from Charms, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, and Astronomy, Maeve also noticed Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and _Apparition_. A groan slithered out of her lips that caused her new friend to glance. 

"I hate Apparition. It makes you feel so gross." 

"I totally get what you mean. Did your Dad make you take it? Mine tried to but, like, I think I've done so much of it this summer that there is really no point."

At the mention of dads, of Father's, Maeve grew a bit pale. This seemed to be lost on Bella, however, and instead she looked to a nearby clock and gasped. Thrusting a fabric bag into her hands and placing the current texts for her classes of the day inside, Bella grabbed her hand and led them out of the dormitories, devout on now saving face since about forty minutes had seemed to pass. While Bella had Herbology, however, Maeve was thrown into D.A.D.A., the little acronym making her grate her teeth together. Was everything going to just be shoved in her face about her Father's death? When would she catch a damn break?!

__________________________________________________

Hey my little Dollies! Here's to another chapter pumped out! I'm honestly having so much fun writing this, and if I drag on too much please just let me know. I'm just getting so swept up in the fun of detail in this world. What do we think of Arabella Axeling so far? Good, or bad? Trustworthy or backstabby? It's a roll of the dice!

Another chapter will be out soon, this one diving straight into her Dark Arts class, and guess which familiar blonde that she just shared a rather intense, albeit embarrassing, moment with will be present?

See you on the other side. 

**xo D.D.**


	5. 04 | 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buried in his office, Dumbledore ends up in a reasonably heated discussion with Snape. As for Maeve, well, It's hard to find your way in a maze of a castle, especially when it's your first time walking about. Maeve ends up a little lost but seems to make some connections along the way, only for her class to take a sour bite of antagonism from Draco Malfoy himself.

**STUDENTS HAD WENT** from munching on their food to scurrying off to their classes, bodies drifting down the wide halls, books in hand and robes fluttering due to speed. The row of professors at the top of the Great Hall sat along the length of their own table, many discussing a range of topics during the morning feast, and when they ran off with the others Albus Dumbledore took a moment to linger. He had quietly watched one of the newest additions to Hogwarts sitting at the Slytherin table, her white hair tucked back and eyes downcast, fixating on an empty plate before Ms. Axeling proceeded to engage with her. It was a welcome sight, even if the young girl had a tendency to ramble. Perhaps that is what Ms. Dahl needed, however.

As everyone left, before Dumbledore was to ready for his own class to teach this semester, his thoughts also swam back to Harry Potter. Two souls under this very roof, both with extreme dangers ahead of them that were none the fault of their own. The old wizard need to calculate his steps carefully, not just for them but for the entire school. Darkness was shadowing over the castle, danger threatening to jump, and while some protested the idea of the children attending school many believed it for the best. A distraction. Better to engage and learn than sit chewing to their cuticles, unaware and defenseless. 

Time ticked on while the Headmaster walked into his office, hands behind his back while he traced his steps towards the tall, ornate structure of glass and gold. Clear vials circled the inside, all marked in cursive. Each a memory of a time once lived and experienced by Dumbledore himself. He neared the luminescent dish off to the side, bending forwards, his wand pressed to his temple while he closed his eyes and knitted his brow. A string of translucent color, light in its own wispy material, pulled out from his mind before he patted down and into the contents, then went to fetch a vial. 

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Dumbledore filtered the piece into the container, placing the cap on its lid and with a flick of his wand, the cursive showing on the front. As he opened the turning case to place another memory inside, there would he see the shape of Severus, his looming figure and flat dark hair sticking out in his otherwise animated space. 

"Severus, how are you?"

"Fine, as you know." 

His voice was low and monotone, ever the same in its pitch while he kept there, standing before the moving Master of magic. Dumbledore offered a little nod and a pinched smile, closing the door to the memory cupboard and facing him properly near his desk. 

"Yes. Of course." No words needed to fully press when it came to the other matters at hand. The darker truths of the world. "I'm sure you've come to notice our newest addition to the school." Dumbledore spoke casually, as if they were discussing the change in the air, but there was, indeed, an undertone of press that only those of perception would understand.

"I did. I've just _one_ question."

"Naturally. Go ahead."

" **Why**?"

Snape's eyes had hardened, staring at the old man with a twitch trying to be held back from his brow. 

"They've found her, Severus. They **cannot** , under any circumstance, get to her."

"You know as well as I do that Voldemort had his focus set on Potter, a complex problem enough of all things. That girl being here will only make it worse. He will not rest, Albus. Do you know what this means?"

"You know I do-"

"Do you _really_?"

Dumbledore held his breath, his eyes narrowing but keeping level headed. He's done well to hold his temper for many moons and now, of all times, it was even more imperative to keep things well regulated when it came to emotions. 

"The safest place for her is here. Hogwarts is heavily warded, especially given the circumstances of the past year. Much more than any other location. She needs to be monitored, _taught_ properly. Dahl did well in his teachings, she is an exceptional student, but if she comes unhinged." 

" _Exactly_. Comes unhinged. You know what she is. The lengths Voldemort will go to obtain her, the blood bath that will follow." 

Both of them knew the challenges and the stakes. The world was drifting back to the way it had been before Tom Riddle had fallen due to his defeat in the Potter household. His aim for power was all the more starved, and with his understanding, even just a pinch of it, regarding Maeve. Bend her enough and she would be a formidable weapon. Dumbledore was determined, however, that there was no other spot. It is not the child's fault that she is what she is, but it is her, and their, responsibility to ensure she obtains further advancements. Control is indispensable in more ways than one, especially when it comes to the realm of the mind. 

"I refuse to let the past repeat itself, Severus."

Snape huffed, turning to his side while the bottom of his shoe squeaked and robe flicked out in an act of frustration. He breathed deeply before staring at the case of memories. Tracing the many vials of history with his dark eyes. The thin line of his lips only grew thinner. A part of his heart was beating more erratic than usual. Dumbledore knew a great deal but he had yet to fully reveal the levels of another phase. Perhaps now was the time.

"You need to understand the depth-"

Another rap of knuckles hit the entrance and their conversation had no choice to conclude. Dumbledore motioned to him about speaking later on, and so off the former Potions Professor went, his figure carrying out and past another member of staff without batting an eye. 

This play had always been claimed as a tragedy, but if things were to go the way it seemed to be heading, it would be more than anyone would have thought possible. It would be the darkest snatch of power that Voldemort would achieve yet.

______________________________________________

"You catch the new girl? Right knockout, that one." 

Blaise Zabini was a strapping young lad among the intimidating group of Slytherins, and his eyes always did have a tendency to wander and appreciate pleasant sights when they passed. He sat beside a friend of his, fellow Slytherin Gregory Gibbins, one only just an inch shorter than Blaise and with hair the color of ink. His lips curled into a smirk as he nodded, about to retort in full before Pansy, the schools desperate housewife, piped up, books clutched to her chest and beady eyes rolling. 

"You mean that new fifth year? Psh, nothing special."

"No, you git. The Olsson. Heard she's from _Sveden._ " Blaise altered the 'w' to try and replicate the accent of the country, his pitch off and entirely wrong but the group laughed nonetheless. Minus Pansy, of course. 

"I suppose, if you like injected lipped harlots."

"Come on, Pans, don't talk about yourself like that. Wait, your lips are rather thin, init?"

Her cheeks flamed a vicious red while she glared daggers at Gregory, lips pursing all the while. He just turned away from her, shaking his head, body reclined along the chair he still occupied while their first class of the day was already wrapping up and most of the inhabitants had began to drift out. 

"Besides, I think one of us already put a stamp on her, amiright, Malfoy?"

"Draco has more _sense_ -!"

"Sod off. You're all imbeciles."

"See!" 

"Shut up, Pansy."

Throughout the entire conversation Draco Malfoy had sat in relative silence. The entire class, to be a matter of fact. He only spoke when it seemed like there was no other way to avoid, and the boundless stress that raked his brain made him feel the urge to peel off his very face. While he normally scowled, now it was more than usual. The lines in his forehead seemed to deepen these past few months, but no one commented, if they knew what was good for them at least.

On the topic of this Olsson girl, though, he could not help but think back to her walking towards the Slytherin table. Sitting right beside blabber mouth Axeling, who was more pretty than sane, he did not mean to stare only felt he could not help it. Yes, she was attractive, but there was something more that caused him to gravitate to her. The way her features seemed so empty and devoid of energy. The lightly forming dark rings beneath her eyes that she tried to cover. How when they caught eyes, her own seemed just as ...wounded. 

Then, of course, the foolish thing bit her lip and naturally he couldn't help but think of more inappropriate features. He was seventeen and while he surely had experience, something about the way she looked at him, and her doing that. 

Draco wanted to _Crucio_ something.

While his friends carried out their conversation without him, having changed topics from Olsson to something else, Pansy still looked to Malfoy like a small animal that had just been kicked before he stood up, book bag in hand and swung over his shoulder.

"Snape's class is starting any moment now. We should go."

He didn't bother waiting for any of them, now his thoughts leaving from the girl and back to the foul taste in his mouth from what he was expected to carry out. While he would never admit it, he felt sick. But he was a Malfoy, and a Malfoy, above anything else, never shows weakness. 

______________________________________________

Maeve felt a heavy weight on her chest the entire time she tried to make it to her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, key word being tried. The school was just that, a troublesome maze that needed proper signals and signs. Maeve managed to get her hands on a copy of the school map, the clock ticking at the top of the page to notify the hour and when class would be starting for her specific one. She had tried to ask a few students but some of them had no clue, either, and those that did had either ignored her or walked too fast. A loud huff fell from her mouth as she proceeded to crumble up the parchment, the urge to rip it entirely almost consuming her. 

Just as she had given up hope, standing idly in the center of a barren walkway, some voices perked up behind her and caused her to lift her head. Three people, close by the looks of it, were walking right towards her, one of red hair, one of black, and the other of brown. The brown flashed in her memory and suddenly she honed in on the girls face, she was the one who had acted like a sour professor, criticizing their timing while knowing nothing about their lives. 

Pride almost took over, a desire to ignore the girl and be petty, but she was desperate and the call for grudges was just foolish. So, before they neared her in three more steps, Maeve turned on her heel and faced them directly, standing right in their path and causing them to abruptly halt.

"Hi, I'm sorry, but do you know where the Dark Arts classroom is? I've the urge to pass out from how complex this school is."

Maeve was a nice girl. She knew her manners. She understood the proper way to speak to people, even if her experience was just a grain of salt in size. Sure, she was more irate than usual, but surely she had good reason! The Slytherin girl just stood before the three while they had stopped, cloaks of red and yellow, a signature statement of their Gryffindor house. 

"I, uh, well."

The red haired one just looked at her, his eyes wide and lips mouthing without enough words to make a sentence. She furrowed her brow at him before turning to stare at one of the others. The girl seemed nervous, or maybe hostile, and fair, she probably had good reason given the instant death glare from earlier. Yet, she was the one to actually respond first. 

"We're headed there as well. You can follow us." 

That was all she said and the boy beside her shot her a look of alarm. The dark haired one, on the other hand, offered her a weak smile and nudge of his head, and Maeve sighed of sincere relief, blending into the trio while they marched down the hall, their pace quickening to make up for lost time. 

It seemed any conversation had died in the air. The red haired boy just focused on the path ahead while the girl fingered a loose page of her text. Maeve felt absolutely awkward, and entirely unwelcome, but the moment was saved by the third member. 

"I'm Harry, and you're Lucinda, right?"

His perfectly accented voice hit her ears as a sweet sign of relief, and finally, Maeve felt at least the tinge of a smile. The name was taking some getting used too, but better safe than sorry. 

"Yes, I'm Lucinda. It's a pleasure, Harry, and you two?" 

The red haired still couldn't find his voice and it caused the girl to roll her eyes, muttering a low ' _For Goodness Sakes Ron'_ before looking over to Maeve. Just before she said anything, though, Maeve cut her off. Not to be rude but to at least clean some of the tension.

"Not to interrupt, even though I am, but I'd like to apologize for earlier. I do believe I glared at you and, really, I shouldn't have taken my discomfort and pushed it in your direction." 

The girl paused then, mouth open in a light 'O' before closing, followed by a nod and a gentle smile. 

"It's alright, I know when I went up there the first time I had a bubble of fear. I'm Hermione Granger, and this here first-time mute is Ronald Weasley."

"Hi."

It came out as more of a squeak than anything else and both of the ladies looked to him with furrowed brows. Harry only laughed, looking to his best friend and finding the entire situation a bucket of hilarity. He always was weird around girls that were not directly affiliated to them, especially if they were Slytherin.

"So!" Granger perked up, her hair bobbing a bit as she did. "What school did you transfer from?" She was fishing for answers, or at least to get to know the newcomer. It was odd to speak on some decent terms with a person from the house of serpents, but be damned if she would not try. So far things were going reasonably well. 

Maeve bit the inside of her cheek again, a habit when she aimed to think over her words. Thankfully this answer did not beg for an outright lie, and instead, she opted for the truth. To an extent of course.

"I was home-schooled, actually. This is my first time in an academy." Her voice trailed off at the end, eyes looking away while the three just stared, Harry nodding while Hermione followed. 

"No wonder you were uncomfortable." 

Finally Ron offered his voice, a proper sentence and one with a natural tone. Maeve picked up on it and grinned, nodding a bit before looking ahead, catching the way they turned left instead of right towards their destination. The paths just seemed to stretch on forever. 

"Yeah, you're right about that." 

Another truth, even if it was not all of it. 

The four of them looked up just in time to catch the sign on the door, the mark of their class and what it will entail. Before stepping in, however, Ron processed a groan followed by a dip of his head. 

"I can't believe Snape is teaching the class. Here I thought I'd finally be rid of his foul stench." 

"Is Snape bad? He smells?" Maeve's nose scrunched up at that tid-bit of information, never one to enjoy being shoved into a room with an awful aroma. Harry snorted while Hermione tried to hide her giggle behind the palm of her hand, shaking her head in the process. Curls dancing about once more. 

"No, he doesn't smell. He's just not very nice." 

"That's one way to phrase it." Ron mumbled again, groaning for the second time just as their hands pressed into the door. 

"You're a Slytherin though, you should be alright. As long as you don't sit with us, anyway." 

Maeve chuckled at Harry, finishing by squaring her shoulders as the door finally opened. 

"Good to know, but I'll take my chances."

The conversation finally concluded as they waltzed in, everyone present and them being the last. Ronald leaned into Harry in that moment while Maeve found a seat along the side of Slytherin's, in whatever chair was empty, and whispered a little ' _She's not as evil as I thought she'd be'_ while Hermione jabbed into his side with her book, causing him to curse in pain. 

Once they found their seats there did the drone of a voice lift into the room, a body covered in entirely black, with hair that almost seemed damp or at least quite shiny. The catch of his uniform made Maeve take in a breath, the sight making her think back to the cloaks in Gammelstad. The Death Eaters. When he turned around, the matters did not get much better, for his face was devoid of all joy and he seemed as if he wanted to be anywhere except where he was. 

"First day and already late. You three never cease to repulse me."

A few giggles chortled out and among the room, many of which hailing from the very house Maeve was situated in. The blonde looked around, eyes rolling, wondering just how childish many Slytherin's were. 

"And you, Olsson, _is it_?"

Ah fuck. 

Heat swam to Maeve's face as the Professor zoned in on her, and eyes of every which way turned to stare at the new girl. The first foreigner to not come in as a freshman in, well, however long it had been since the last. She did well to keep her posture straight. Reminding herself to fake the absolute confidence and recline, as wallowing in the stare of a thousand Devil's only caused more to swarm. 

Her Father had taught her that. 

"... You'd do well not to trifle with _those_ miscreants."

Stars above she felt a large wave of relief flood from her body. Of all things, while it definitely sucked that they got thrown under the bus, at least she didn't have to count her first day as one being humiliated by a Professor. Maeve caught Harry from the other side of the room, his lips mouthing an ' _I_ _told you_ ' that almost made her lip twitch. Almost. 

Snape did, unfortunately, stare at her longer than necessary. His eyes were dark and ongoing, as if they aimed to suck out a soul like a Dementor, but the way he eyed her made her wonder just what he was thinking. Did he hate her already or was he contemplating it? Something about it unnerved her, a portion of her, deep in the core, felt a large desire to spite him for it. Aghast, as if he dared had the right to pass senseless judgement onto her, especially over something so pathetically trivial.

He mumbled a little 'hmm' beneath his breath before tearing his eyes away, one hand pushing up his sleeve and then followed by the other. 

"All of you look around the room. Notice the paintings. The pictures. These are the faces of darkness; the true look beneath the mask. The Dark Arts is not to be taken lightly, as it will never, ever, handle you with care. If you are to stand even a second against a cold hearted opponent, you need to be on even ground. You need to know the defense, _and_ the offence."

Snape stared at the class, honing in on certain people, focusing towards Harry, and then to Maeve herself. While everyone looked about the classroom, some shivering in unease, the horrified faces of killers, and victims, embedded into every fiber of their brain. Maeve tried to not stare as much. She witnessed first hand the torment of evil. The crack of curses. Years ago, even, something...

An ache in the back of her head started up and Maeve whimpered, the tone quiet but loud enough to be picked up by the person beside her. Eyes flecked towards her, in fact, the eyes had been flecking back and forth for quite some time now. As she used the pad of her index to rub at one side of her temple, Maeve would then sit up, Snape now going on about something else, his eyes gone from her form, but the other pair that was so close still watching. 

Unable to resist, Maeve felt a snap of agitation, her face turning towards the creep who had an issue with looking too long. 

"May I _help_ you?" She hissed, but then the look of minor disgust fell from her face, instead changing into pure surprise. It was him. The blonde boy from the Great Hall. The one she had accidentally- 

Maeve blinked, trying to save herself, before settling on just pure disregard. She went to turn her head back while Malfoy looked to the newcomer, his eyes tracing her features, mind curious on why she made such a sound and seemed to be in pain a second ago. Only when her reaction settled in, the infamous behavior of his breed took shine, for he had a reputation to uphold. 

"Oh don't flatter yourself, Olsson."

The surprise from him saying her name, or at least her fake one, made her head whip back around. She narrowed her eyes, unable to comprehend his problem but thinking back on her own reaction that she just finished with. Snape either seemed to not hear this minor exchange or he did not bother to tend to it, for they were left undisturbed by the grouchy Professor, however Zabini and Gibbins were peering over intently, along with Parkinson, who was, sad for her, sitting beside Zabini and not Malfoy himself. The fact she heard his dig, though, did well to make her smirk. She sat up a little prouder. 

"What in -- _excuse me_?!" 

Damn. Her anger flared. Zero points for emotional control. The clip of her voice has lifted a bit and a few others turned towards them, along with Snape, who paused his lecture and glared. Still, he had yet to speak out loud. The glare did well to make her shrink back a bit, and her rationality came out, urging her to just remain quiet and make this class just go by as smoothly, and quickly, as possible. 

Until the _jäkel_ had to have the last word. 

"Are you deaf?" 

His side-eye glared daggers into her, and for a moment she felt a little quake, mildly impressed with how effective his pointed look worked. Since it was towards her, however, she was less impressed and more miffed. 

Maeve's eyes shrunk into slits, her face removed of all positive emotion, and nothing but pure malice carved into every ounce of her face. Necrosis in action. 

"Keep up that lip and you will be."

Then she turned her head. The newblood facing towards the lecture, unaware of the partial enlargement of Draco's eyes, while Blaise and Greggory leaned back a bit, effected by the stare in a way no one had prepped for. Pansy, on the other hand, just glared. 

The trio none too far away were whispering themselves, and _that_ seemed to be when Snape finally snapped his textbook shut and walked towards both Harry and Ron. 

"Have something to share, Potter? Weasley?"

Well, all be damned. Maeve felt ridiculous that it did not form in her mind that Harry was _the_ Harry. Probably a good thing not having mentioned it, though. She's read about him, in the papers and some books that probably meant very little on truth, but she knew enough that he was most likely extremely tired of the chortle that came his way when those did figure out his background. She would be, too, if she was in his shoes. 

Ron gaped at Snape, his eyes wide as saucers, unable to help briefly looking at where Maeve sat and how she had been entirely ignored during her little spat with Malfoy. While he secretly approved of it, he was rather upset that they got the whip stick while they only had a half-assed glare. Which, to be fair, was terrifying, but not as bad as full attention.

This brief intermission of stammers on their part, trying to make amends, seemed to be a perfect opportunity for Draco to finally slither a little smirk onto his lips. Curiosity inflaming and body coming to reasonably relax, the worries of before still there, but diluted to some degree. His icicle eyes zoned in on the girl to his left, arms coming to gather at his chest, and this alone made his two friends, or lackeys, whatever they were, snicker behind him. Finding their own amusement in this debacle. 

"I remember that lip, alright. If you wanted a taste, Olsson, just ask. Not sure I can make time, but, I may."

It wasn't her choice. She had no control. Maeve felt a wave of red sweep onto her face, and she tried to turn her face away from him entirely and towards the aisle, but Draco saw it. He saw the tomato tint and it was plenty fuel to draw out a full blown smirk. The infamous Malfoy clip. 

Some sort of reply tried to roll in her head, but Maeve was both embarrassed, and angry. She'd never kissed a boy before, and his provocation made her all the more unable to focus. Not wanting to think about what she didn't intent to do at the breakfast table, but unable to get it out of her head. It was as if someone glued it. This pompous, ego-maniac. 

Arabella was right. Not impressive at all. Gods, how she wished the little chatter box was here. She'd probably have the perfect quip since her own mind was coming up as dry as the Sahara Desert. 

Malfoy sat there, chuffed as all hell, his arrogance beaming since his last word was the stake in a Vampire's chest. Blaise snickered beside him, nudging him, his head nodding up and down and making motions to say something else. He ignored him, however, and whatever Pansy's pout was trying to achieve was not even worth a glance. She wasn't entirely sure if she should smile or frown. The entire situation was full of mannerisms that one could paint in either light, and she surely did not approve of the latter. 

Snape had carried on his teachings, his eyes drifting over towards Maeve's table, catching the way Draco now sat with a look of achievement sprawled on his face. Goodness, he wanted to just roll his eyes, so he did. 

"Turn to page one hundred and thirty two. You will read, in **silence** ,-" His eyes honed in on the trio, but then quickly towards Malfoy himself, for Maeve was looking down at her textbook and avoiding the atmosphere around her. Draco shrunk back in his chair. "-about the affects, remedies, and history of _Langlock._ " 

A few groans transpired about the room. "Whine somewhere else. I'd like a four paged paper of it ready by this Wednesday, including _citations_." If this was a decision based on the banter that had been filtered around, well, it did well to end the class in, indeed, quiet. 

Everyone placed their noses into their books, Maeve especially, but Malfoy continued to sit there, ripe as a fresh peach. This year just got a little bit better.

______________________________________________________

Well, there we have it! Off to a fabulous start. Maeve has managed to keep it together more than anticipated... so far. Let's see how it transpires. 

And oh, what will happen when dear old Daddy Lucius finds out, for he is in the hot seat and wouldn't this news just bring glory to their name?

Tick, tock. 

**xo D.D.**


	6. 05 | 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒓𝒖𝒑𝒕

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After D.A.D.A. Maeve finish's up Transfigurations class, having to deal at the end with Pansy Parkinson's provocations. While an almost slip up happens later in lunch, the true chaos begins to unwind during Potions class.

**IT FELT LIKE CENTURIES** before the entire class was finally released from the death grip that was Professor Snape and his idea of Defense Against the Dark Art's curriculum. Maeve had done her best to keep her eyes on her paper, eyes drinking in the content and aiming to absorb the paragraphs. Throughout her studies with her Father she never had an issue with memorization, however the content was much harder to keep locked inside when a rather aggravating boy continued to leer at her, his eyes feeling like a hex of fire that kept aiming to burn her to a crisp. 

Numerous times she wanted to snap, but instead she kept it together. She was not about to let him ruin this for her and get her into further dislike by the Professor, whom also happened to be their very own Head of House. What a true blessing of the Gods. As soon as Snape motioned for them to scatter like ants she was up and out of her seat like a strike of lightning. Not about to hit the same ground twice, at least not on purpose. 

Draco had been facing Blaise and Gregory, so when he turned around, not seeing the new girl anywhere, the little slip of a smirk fell from his lips. His momentary distraction gone before he could cause her feathers to ruffle again. The regular look of distaste back on his face as if it were painted. On the way out the door he made sure to slap the books out of Weasley's hand, hearing them tumble out of his fingers and clatter to the ground, marching right past after while his friends laughed.

Ronald just glared daggers into the back of the spoiled boy's head, Malfoy gritted his teeth, disliking how that didn't do anything to make him feel better like he thought it would. Distractions were hard to process and already the old worries were cluttering up his brain again, pushing aside any and all information from the class that just concluded. 

Already far away from the classroom, Maeve had rushed towards her next class, thankfully managing to find it way before others did. This one was instructed by Professor McGonagall, giving her a sigh of relief. While Bella was not in this class either, and thankfully she did not see _him_ either, Hermione was sitting at one of the front desks once she eased inside and the two decided to pair up, working side by side while the assignment was carried out. Pansy was at the far back, her eyes squinted at the two of them, trying so hard to visualize various ways of 'Lucinda' exploding that she did not even manage a crass thought about Granger. 

Before they knew it it was time for lunch and Maeve could not help but finally smile, her arms stretching out and above her head, shirt lifting up a bit and showing a tiny bit of skin. Hermione caught the exposure and she looked to Maeve, acting before even saying, her hand grasping at the ends of her top and pushing it down. 

"Wow, Granger, I never took you for the type." 

The academic felt a flush of red on her cheeks while she scoffed, unable to hold in her grin even if she tried to act like the comment was ridiculous. If she wanted to say something, though, it was too late, for Pansy pranced up to the two of them with a few nameless girls behind her, one a bottled blonde and the other a brunette. They eyed the two of them, disgust glistening in their eyes. 

"Huh, I always took you for a lesbian Granger, not surprised you'd expose yourself with equal amounts of filth."

Hermione stood, rigid and stiff, but before she'd say anything she'd catch Maeve's eye and see how she just gave her a simple look. One that clearly tried to portray not to bother. Taking the hint, she put the rest of her books in her bag, tucked some hair behind her head, then pushed in her used chair. Maeve slowly got up, still taking this time to lounge about, a little yawn slipping out from her lips while she squinted, stretching backwards at the same time. 

"No one is here who wants to watch you flaunt yourself, Olsson. Even Malfoy is disgusted and for good reason. Who would even-"

Maeve shoved past her, books in her bag and shoulder shoving into Pansy's chest, her body tugged back and knocking into the two girls behind her. Parkinson just gawked, not knowing what to do given her failed taunts. The fact she was being so easily disregarded made her more furious than anything else. She instead had no choice but to watch the Gryffindor and Slytherin walk, side by side towards the door, still not looking in her direction. Soon enough they were just gone from her sight. Their bodies having turned a corner and headed towards the Great Hall, the promise of lunch more tantalizing than engaging her feeble attempts at a dispute. 

The two of them heard Parkinson practically screech from the Transfiguration room, and Professor McGonagall, who had been getting something in the back room, had come out just in time.

"Ms. Parkinson, need I remind you that you are a human girl, and _not_ an obscene animal. Act accordingly. 5 points from Slytherin."

Then she was gone, and that only pissed Pansy off further. 

Maeve and Hermione, on the other hand, snickered to themselves. Their bodies continuing down the hallway, shuffling past others who were heading to whatever destination that held their focus. Hermione clutched her books to her chest once again while Maeve slugged her bag on her shoulder so it was up further, the weight of it proving to cause some ache.

"Ignoring her really does the trick it seems. Good call, Lucy." A smile came from Granger while Maeve nodded, then tilted her head at the nickname that she just heard. Hermione's face went a bit red, momentarily pausing in her step while Maeve just grinned back. "I'm sorry. I mean, is that alright? Do you prefer Lucinda in full?" 

She never had a nickname before. Well, she never had any sort of interaction like this before. Sure, it was not her real name, but it was a nice little slip. The warm feeling in the pit of her stomach made her feel not as alone as before.

"No, it's fine. I just never had friends to give me nicknames before." The Gryffindor smiled in a bit of a sad way, but it washed aside when she picked up her pace to be near 'Lucy' again, lightly bumping her shoulder into her own. "Well, I misjudged you, and I hope we become better friends."

Through all the insanity that had been her past few days of life, this was definitely picking things up to a fairly better note. The rest of the walk consisted of them chatting aimlessly about the content of the class they just had, passing by the arches to the great outdoors, and Maeve looked up to catch a glimpse of the enchanting sight of the Hogwarts grounds and that of England's green. She almost stopped in her step, but she didn't, for instead she knew to come back for it later. The smell of autumn was in the air and Maeve definitely wanted to walk around the beyond, to feel the world of The Mother surrounding her again. It was a familiar feeling of security that she couldn't shake. It made her think of home. 

Hermione carried the rest of the conversation as Maeve fell victim to her thoughts once more. When they arrived in the Great Hall, her feet still just following the steps of her second friend made, the elaborate strain of displeasure snaked out of the ginger. 

"He's such a prick. One day I'm going to knock Malfoy a good one, I swear it. He won't even see it coming."

"Not before I do."

Maeve seamlessly added her own two cents into his comment, the thought of tossing him a good one for his pointless pushing giving her some semblance of pleasure. Ron turned his head while Harry did the same, except the one slumped along the wooden bench while Harry was seated more upright, a sandwich in front of him and already munching away. Hermione took to the bench, managing her way just across from Ron, the thump of her school necessities thundering onto the surface and causing him to jump, his eyes narrowed at her but feeling too disturbed by the thought of the other Slytherin to really comment. 

"I cannot believe Snape didn't snap at you and Malfoy the entire time! At least not the way he did us. He's such a bloody pickest!" 

"Biased, Ron. He's _biased_."

"Whatever, 'miony."

Maeve shook her head from side to side, but she did shrug her shoulders as well. Unable to deny the fact that yes, they did get off surprisingly easy. In fact she thought they were causing the most distraction throughout the first half of the class. If it was because he was the Head of House, in truth, Maeve was not about to pick it apart. Why would she complain about _not_ getting punished? What sane person would even nip about such a thing?

"How was Transfiguration with McGonagall?"

"I thought it was quite alright."

"Excellent! Honestly, it's just far more interesting this year. You're both missing out. We'll be delving into _Crinus Muto_ , the ambitious task of Human Transformation-" And so it began. Hermione allowed her voice to carry throughout the room, discussing the various components regarding human transformation and what possible complications could arise if it is done incorrectly. Maeve managed to finally sit down, pushing her robe out from behind her while her skirt spread out around the edges. 

Food was not as heavy along the table for lunch hour. Instead, as soon as she sat there came an empty plate and a little note in elegant cursive resting on top, the text detailing to say aloud her food request and then tap the page twice. It was simple enough. Maeve took her hand out, tapping against the surface while she contemplated her desires, and once she had it figured she let out a little " _Kalops_ ", the dish of Swedish origin, then tapped the page with her finger. After, she turned and started to fish through her bag, looking to pull out her Dark Arts text and read up more on _Langlock_. She's read on it before, but after how _that_ class went she thought a refresher would be good.

Her food appeared not too long after. Harry, sitting opposite of her and beside Ron, had been thinking on his own food but had idly been glancing over to the Slytherin throughout it. When he had seen her tap the page, no wand in sight, and the magic work itself, his eyes widened a little and low lip fall a smidgen.

"Did you not use a _wand_?!"

He couldn't help himself. 

Any conversation Hermione had been carrying on, which had been boring and making Ron look beyond miserable, had paused. The two others instantly turned their heads, staring at Maeve and with inquisitive eyes. Maeve sat there, then, feeling an inch of panic sweep up into her system. Her anxiety began to twist around her intestines, threatening to come up and spill. It did say to tap the page, but _jäklar,_ it meant with a wand? 

' _Of course it meant with a wand you moron_.' Her thoughts berated her. In this moment now she deeply wished she had, indeed, listened to her Father when he pressed on using the wand far more than her hands. She still was far from making it into a habit. 

Her mind reeled, trying to think on a response quickly, but since her hand was still in her bag she smoothly slid her wand up and into her sleeve. While their eyes were swallowing her whole, Ron looking as if he just heard of a basilisk being a cuddle bug, Maeve pushed out a laugh, forcing it to hit her eyes. Taking her hand and bringing it up, she allowed the sleeve of her robe to drop and show the peak of her wand just sticking out.

The crew's face fell a bit. As if that bit of excitement was all for nothing.

"I wish. No, after Pansy's confrontation I sort of just slipped it in just in case." Her shoulders shrugged, now taking the wand out and placing it on the table beside her plate. 

Harry still eyed her while Hermione sighed.

"You cannot react with magic though, it's against the rules."

" _Slytherin_.~"

She rolled her eyes but still managed a smile, her head shaking back and forth, digging into her own plate. Ron sagged his shoulders, the element of intrigue gone, now droning about Quidditch trials that would be soon and how he just _had_ to make the team. Maeve pulled up her spoon, for Kalops was a meat stew with onion, vegetables, and spices. Nothing too special but delicious, nonetheless. Harry, however, while slowly looking back to his own plate, kept repeating the scene over in his head, because he surely had not seen the wand touch the page. His brows furrowed, and while Maeve flecked her eyes over discreetly while taking a spoonful of her meal, she looked towards the other two and pretended to listen to their conversation. Her heart fluttering in her chest. 

Nervous on what a close call that was.

"I wouldn't date you if you were the only man standing between me and a free _Agatha Agora Puffskein Coat_. **That's 10 points from Hufflepuff.** Be **gone,** Maverick." 

Arabella Axeling announced herself in the Great Hall, the Slytherin Prefect scoffing at the nervous 5th year boy while all color drained from his face. Her hair was perfectly coiled, the pumpkin locks glistening, and her attire was well pressed. Smooth without any crease. Her skirt, as well, just a bit shorter than proper regulations. When her chocolate deep eyes scanned the room, seeing a few group of girls at the Slytherin table wave her over, she waved but dismissed them after catching the infamous white head of Lucinda Olsson, her eyes widening at where _she_ was located. 

Maeve was just finishing up her soup, about to reply to Hermione regarding the topic of Hogsmeade, as she did not know what that was, only to feel the loom of a shadow and all color to drain from Ron's face. Naturally. Maeve turned her head, glancing up to see Bella looking down at her, her head jutting out a bit at the neck while she leaned on the table, manicured fingers unmarred from Herbology clicking along the wood.

"I'm going to choose to disregard this little error of interaction, given you are new and all. Plus, I quite like you, Lu-Lu." Maeve blinked, another nickname tickling her ears. This one a bit more _unique_ than the first. Potter and Granger scowled towards Axeling, Harry's face now a bit full of food, aiming to swallow it down as fast as he could to snap back. 

Bella raised her palm, eyes closing and looking away from him.

"Don't bother, Chosen Boy. Totally not in the mood for your breath to slap my face."

"Bella!"

Maeve finally spoke, her voice lifting a bit. She did not see the necessity in this sort of behavior. These people were not rude, they did not deserve it. 

"Come on, I want to show you the grounds before class starts. You'll love it. Especially the Black Lake. Sure, there is a squid in there, can be scary, yada yada, but really if you just toss him a little treat now and then he doesn't bother you when you splash around."

Before Maeve could protest Bella was off, heading towards the door and then waving her on. Maeve's head turned to the other three, giving a look of sympathy, one that would try to explain that she'd talk to her, but Granger just showed her own sympathetic smile. 

"We're used to it. She's in your House, it'd probably be best to stay on her good graces. Go on, we'll see you in Potions." 

"You're too good for me. _Vi ses_." Grabbing all of her things, Maeve swallowed the last of her drink and then left the table. Ron was left to grumble and Harry, after swallowing his food, couldn't help but ask Hermione what 'vi ses' meant. 

_________________________________________________

Air. Crisp and fresh. The world was shifting from the summer into a decorated autumn, leaves on the trees starting to turn from their prominent green into varying hues of orange, red, and yellow. There was a moderate nip in the air which caused Maeve to round her robe up, arms tucked into her sides, to secure some warmth. Thankfully it wasn't too intense, just enough that the robe did plenty to keep her at a reasonable temperature. While Bella walked, her body only a tiny bit more ahead of Maeve's own, she finally paused on a hillside, her arms outstretching, aiming to embrace the view that showed such a length of the grounds and the vast expanse of the ink spilled lake. 

"Isn't it just _wonderful_? I don't like to play around in it, not in these shoes, but it is pretty." 

She was unable to say anything yet. Instead, she just felt her head go up and down gently, pieces of her hair falling out from behind her ears while her opal eyes looked towards a little stone hut none too far off, its body encased by a nice garden and pumpkin patch. Farther off, however, is what caused her to freeze and inspect in full. There was a lining of towering trees, a blend of pine and other sorts, that seemed to weed out any sunlight that aimed to penetrate from above. She imagined it was not as dark on the inside during the daylight hours, but something about it sort of channeled her on, maybe due to reminding her of her own wide wood that had spanned around the manor back home.

Thinking back on home made whatever sense of happiness she was cupping in her chest spill out. Her little glass of joy now empty. Her eyes trailed down, looking at the grass below, its texture becoming more rough due to the season change.

"Hellooo, _earth_ to Lu-Lu."

A hand waved in front of her face, then another face itself. The red hair swept from her back to hang due to the curve of her frame. Maeve snapped up, lashes flitting as she refocused, then gave a weak smile.

"Förlåt. I did not mean to ignore you. Just have a lot on my mind."

"So spill."

"Huh?"

Bella rolled her eyes, hands on her hips and then one arm reaching out, trudging her back towards a stone bench that was positioned along the hillside. Apparently quite a few people liked to linger here and it gave way to them putting a seat. The two girls sat down, the cool sensation of the stone making goosebumps accumulate along each leg that was, thankfully, somewhat concealed by nylon. 

"I know that I go on tangents, but honestly, it's not my fault people cannot keep up. Anyway, I still care. Come on, spill. Let it out. What's on your mind?"

It was quite a surprise to hear Bella say what she did. She sat down, hands on her lap, fingers entwined with one ankle behind the other. Lady like and screaming of etiquette classes. Maeve unconsciously ended up mirroring her with the legs, but her body slumped a bit, her one hand rubbing the wrist of the other. What could she tell her? 

' _Hey, my name is actually Maeve Dahl. My Dad was murdered by Death Eaters, who are, for some reason, trying to hunt me down because I can perform weird magic without needing to use a wand'_. 

Yeah. No. Not likely, and one hundred percent against what Dumbledore told you to do. It was chewing her up to be so hidden, but, she had no choice. So, Maeve thought it over, and instead she figured now would be a good time to reel back on her confrontation regarding Granger, Weasley, and Potter. So she sat up a bit straighter, looked towards Bella, and let the _somewhat truth_ spill. 

"I did not like how you talked to Hermione, Ron, and Harry."

"Really? That's the beef? And you're on a _first name basis_?"

"Yes! They did nothing to you, Bella. Have they ever?"

Arabella scoffed, turning away from her, body facing the view directly while she waved her hand up in a dismissive manner. Her one leg over-lapped the other now at the knee, foot bobbing up and down as if she could not sit still. Really, Bella wasn't sure how to react. No one really confronts her. She was used to people just dealing with what she said and working something out to accommodate it. She was the Slytherin Prefect for a reason. 

"They get into trouble all the time, Lu-Lu. Have you never picked up a magazine? Read the paper? Potter, above all, is known for lies and dragging people into his stupid, over-dramatic, 'Oh look at me, I'm the Chosen One, love me since my Parents couldn't!' act."

"But it is true, Voldemort is alive, right? The Ministry said so."

"You're not getting it. Honestly, if you were here for the Triwizard Tournament." 

Bella clicked.

Maybe it was the exact sentence she used, or something else, but her words felt like a knife to the stomach. Maeve couldn't help but think about her own Father, how now she was now an orphan with no one to rely on. She couldn't go on vacation. There would be no family reunions, no one watching her walk down the aisle if she ever managed to get married. Yes, she read the papers. She remembered the way her Father would shove the horrors of the world down her throat, detailing why it was not safe for her to leave their own yard. He'd highlight Harry as a prime example, but instead of labeling him as a liar, he always believed him. 

"My mum tells me how at work she is always so exhausted, running circles with PR, trying to fix all the foolish little spits that cretin makes. They are _vermin_ , Lu-Lu. Causing disaster in their wake, starved to be noticed! Why should we all have to suffer for the fact that they were born of low income, drab, tainted blood?!" 

Her hands clenched at her sides. Fingers digging into the robe. Maeve's eyes were wide as she stared at her lap, the black of the rob swallowing her whole. The events of that night, which happened just the other day, reeling in her head. This was her first day of classes. This was a reminder of her being here, and her Father was not. Jasper was not. That all of Gammelstad was not. 

The sky overhead began to slowly fill with dark clouds. A cluster of storms, the crackle of something or other looming. Inside of her, there was something going on. Maeve's head felt like it was on fire. She couldn't get out of her own mind, trapped in the Hell of her recent past, her emotions spiraling. She felt fear, sadness, but it was slowly building into resentment, anger, hatred.

Bella looked up, noticing the shift in weather, a little sigh falling from her mouth and then slapping the flat of her palms on her lap. "We should get in, it's going to rain and I really don't want to spend time fixing my hair. It's through magic, sure, but still. Unnecessary, right?" Seeing that Maeve was still crouched inwards, her hair now falling into her face, face blank and looking unnerved, Bella couldn't help but bite her lip and reach out, her hand touching the girl's shoulder. 

This touch shocked her system and she looked up, no longer drowning in her mind. The world around her piecing itself together, her heavy breathing slowing down. 

"Are you okay? Do you want me to take you to Madame Pomprey's?"

Maeve breathed slowly then sat up, the negative thoughts bleeding out. Her face relaxing, although a pain shot up in the back of her head again. A dull, pulsing sensation. She aimed to shrug it off.

"No, I'm okay. We should go to class."

"Are you positive?"

"Yeah, don't want to be late."

"Well, alright then. Let's head out." 

Bella got up, grabbing her bag and Maeve's, then extended her hand towards her. She took the hand and stood, then placed both in her pocket as they walked back to the castle. Behind her, as they drifting away from the outdoors and headed inside the towers of stone and history, there would the sky slowly flush back into clarity. The color a lovely shade of blue. 

From a tower there did eyes linger, a figure hiding in the shadow and side of glass. Catching this paranormal shift, they fixed their stare on the two girls. Watching them until they could not be seen at all.

_________________________________________________

Potions was moderately dingy but still better lit than the Dark Arts classroom. There were no seats decorating the space, at least not at the present time, and instead high-rise tables occupied the area with various forms of alchemical and potion making equipment. The scent was a mixture of things, a touch of stale air itself, but something else wafted, faint but delectable. 

The two ladies arrived earlier than some, the only other souls in the room being Professor Slughorn, Hermione, and someone else. The Professor was fiddling about the room, organizing structures and putting items in places he thought were best. He wore a cap that reminded her of Muggle graduations, something she had seen in a book a long time ago. 

Bella had gone off to the washroom therefore Maeve was left to her own devices, but she did catch the eyes of Hermione who was taking out her text. The two smiled at each other. It was then the rest of the class filtered in, bodies beginning to get comfortable and ready, but comfort was far from being achieved for Maeve as footsteps came up behind her and a masculine British voice, low and velvety, whispered along her ear.

"If it isn't Olsson. Potions too?"

Maeve whirled around, hair coming up to smack across Malfoy's face in the process. His eyes shut and mouth vaguely pursed. Fixing her hair, she then proceeded to take a step back. Her eyes narrowing as they seemed to naturally do in his presence already. The idea of telling him to bugger off came up, but she thought against it, instead trying to reclaim her lost dignity of before with her own jag to shut him up.

"You're awful close, Malfoy. Desperation doesn't look good on you, but I have a feeling it's a common attribute."

The fellow blonde's gaze constricted, not taking his eyes off of her, just staring her down in a way that she tried to uphold. Two people stood nearby, shadowing Draco as if they were hired guards. Both of them looked rather empty headed, with one scanning the Potions lab and the other looking at Maeve as well. Malfoy, himself, was currently configuring some sort of comeback but Maeve could not help but cringe in disgust, causing him to go from feeling the fire of her presence go down and verging on insulted. He didn't like that look. 

But then he noticed she was looking at Goyle who had a bit of drool running down the side of his lip.

"Welcome and welcome everyone, to sixth years Potions class! I am Professor Slughorn, as you must have heard at the first feast, but oh ho, I have a feeling this will be quite an illuminating and invigorating experience for all of you! Come, come, gather 'round now. Let's go over some fundamentals before we plunge!" 

Maeve took one last look at Malfoy before turning away, his gaze following her, before sharply turning to Goyle and punching his arm with his fist. The man whimpered, leaning back, hand instantly beginning to nurse the afflicted area before Malfoy sneered and stalked off to the left side of the room, aiming to lounge against a wall while this buffoon of a Professor prepared to drone them all with his tedious explanations.

Bella had shifted in just in time, the Prefect finding Maeve with ease. She stood right beside her, leaning in to question if she missed anything, to which Maeve gave a little shake of her head. Then the two stood present while Slughorn patted down his robes, his plump form and red cheeks beaming, while his fingers entwined at his front. Something, it seems, quite regular among old, Wizarding men.

"Potions, my dear students, is a fine and crafty piece of work. In its own right, it is an _artform_! When done correctly, such magnificent concoctions can either be cause to blossom the vigor and enthusiasm of another's health, wit, or elsewhat,-"

" _Elsewhat_?" 

Bella whispered to Maeve, her brows furrowing about Slughorn's language. Maeve tried to stifle her giggle, tugging her sleeve up to her mouth and coughing into it. From the corner Malfoy took another glimpse at Maeve, and she caught it, bringing him to hastily stare back to Slughorn and pretend it didn't happen. Pansy was apparently in this class as well, standing now on the right side of Malfoy, and she watched with distaste at having caught Malfoy be the one to instigate. Naturally, she'd blame 'Olsson' for it.

"-or it could be the very downfall of a body, causing great turmoil and suffering! To curve these conundrums and be at the top of our game, it is essential to take in every detail, monitor our work, and track our progress." 

His lips were pulled into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners while the wrinkles of age seemed to practically giggle. Those around the room just blinked, watching him and trying not to react. A group of four girls near Hermione ushered in closer together, books curled at their fronts, their focus less on the Professor and more on the heated cauldron's that sat on a dusted surface.

"Now, attention to detail is the prerequisite of _all_ planning.-" Slughorn finished there, his body turning at the sound of two boys coming in through the door, each none other than Harry and Ron. 

"Ah! Harry, my boy, I was beginning to worry. We've brought someone with us, I see." 

"Ron Weasley, sir. I'm dead awful at Potions, a menace, actually, so, I'm probably just gonna--"

"Nonsense, we'll sort you out. Any friend of Harry's is a friend of mine. Get your books out."

Slughorn turned back around to face the rest of the class while Harry did his best to keep from Ron escaping, smacking him a bit and providing a push causing Ronald to almost trip over his own feet. Bella huffed at her side, clearly unimpressed with their behavior, whereas Maeve, on the other hand, couldn't help but laugh. At the mention of them not having books, they were instructed to the cupboard, and instantly the man eased back into his chatter. 

"Now, as I was saying, I've prepared some concoction's this morning. Any ideas what _these might be_?" 

The aroma became a highlight of her attention once again, the scents lingering around her nostril, almost enough to absorb and drown herself in. For some ridiculous, _and brief_ , reason she wondered what it is that Malfoy smelled. As soon as the thought struck her she wanted to jump out of the window. To give her more stability, Maeve whispered under her breath, her eyes looking to each cauldron, taking in the erotic pink of the one, the false water of the other, and the ugly, bubbling green-brown of the last.

" _Veratiserum, Poly-Juice, and Amortentia."_

Bella gaped at her side, shocked at the showcase of quick knowledge from Maeve. She just shrugged while her friend finished off with a downturn of her lip and eyebrows raised, seemingly impressed and nudging her to raise her hand, to which Maeve refused. Less attention is good attention. Besides, just after she said it to Bella Hermione's hand had shot up in a flash. This, clearly, did not go over well with Bella who just groaned under her breath, but muffled a little ' _oi_ ' as Maeve nudged her foot at her, telling her, without saying it, to hush. 

Hermione walked closer to the table, easily explaining the cauldrons after revealing who she was to Slughorn. He watched and waited patiently. Maeve caught Harry, heard it first, rather, smack at Ron again but this time with a book. The ginger had a cheeky grin on his lips, happy at whatever he succeeded at. They managed to drift over towards Maeve, nodding at her while Bella looked as if she wanted to hiss. Feeling insulted that they dared walk into her bubble.

"-It's rumored to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them _._ For example, I smell freshly mown grass, and new parchment, and ... _spearmint toothpaste_." Hermione breathed in quickly, her cheeks a little red before turning back to where she stood before. She caught Maeve giving her a thumbs up, causing the girl to relax a little, nodding in thanks. 

"Now, Amortentia doesn't create actual love. That would be impossible, but it does cause a powerful infatuation _or obsession,_ and for that reason, it is probably the most **dangerous potion in this room _._** _"_

A bunch of girls were flowing closer to the cauldron, their eyes fixated, nostrils widening as they inhaled deeply. Pansy was one of them, and during this time Malfoy was staring at the floor, then back and between the bodies, watching Maeve again while her own eyes were looking to the Professor. As soon as he placed the lid on the cauldron, the little 'spell' was shattered, and the girls relaxed a bit, fidgeting, seemingly embarrassed.

One woman with golden hair of coils and a pink band was breathing heavily, her body scrunched up as if she were to fall there on the floor in a tizzy of passion and pent up euphoria. Maeve couldn't help but cringe, finding her to be rather unnerving, so she did her best to negate her eyes and try to pretend she wasn't in the room. Just a creepy little thing, she was. Maeve couldn't even explain it.

" _I wonder what'd I smell. Hard to tell from over here._ " Ron muttered, his whispers meant for Harry but being picked up by others. 

Bella snorted, quite possibly the most unladylike thing Maeve had seen her ever do, but amusing nonetheless. 

" _Failure, I presume._ "

Ron scowled, looking at the fellow redhead while she refused to glance back. Instead she tried to hold down her smirk, eyebrows perking up, then looking down to her nails. Maeve just turned her head over and stared at Bella, her expression not that kind, gaining her a fake look of hurt from her companion while she mouthed a ' _What_?' to feign innocence.

"Sir? You haven't told us what's in that one." 

There came a random voice, bringing everyone to look towards the tiny, teardrop shaped vile that was placed on a dainty stand. Slughorn reached down, being gentle in his touch, slowly unwinding the structure that held it in place. 

"Ah yes, what you see before you, ladies and gentlemen, is a curious little potion known as Felix Felicis, but it is more commonly referred to as--"

"Liquid luck."

Granger turned her head, her words lost given Maeve spoke before she did. Instead of being annoyed, rather, she gave her a thumbs up in return. 

"Correct! Who said that?"

Dammit. Regret began to take hold as Slughorn held the vile in his hands, glancing over the collection of students and looking for the one who had answered. Bella nudged Maeve a bit forwards, causing her to stumble a tad, then swat her with her arm hidden behind her back. The fluff of her robe moving. 

"Ah, and you are, my dear?"

"M- Lucinda. Lucinda Olsson, sir." 

That was precisely why she didn't want the attention. Her lips seemed to fumble, acting as if she were a victim of langlock, but no one seemed to notice her minor correction. No, except, the very person who kept peering over at her from time to time. 

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Olsson. You are quite correct. Liquid Luck. Desperately tricky to make, disastrous should you get it wrong." 

Slughorn held the vile up in his hand, the light coming through the window beaming upon it, causing the contents to glisten with a little glitter. It had the appearance of water, similar to Veratiserum, but instead of being all clear, rather, it was more shiny. Almost as if it were infused with melted mercury. 

Everyone in the room was attentive to the Professor, their eyes zoned in on the small vile, unable to look away like some of them had with the Amortentia. Many were picturing the things they could accomplish with such unmistakable and unconquerable luck, curious on what it would enhance or what they could discover. Bella said something quiet about not needing any luck, but Maeve didn't react, her thoughts far from luck considering reviving the dead was impossible. No amount of luck could bring back her Father. Going after those who killed him, too, well, while it seemed appealing it was more threatening than anything else.

"One sip and you will find that all of your endeavors succeed. At least until the effects wear off."

Malfoy's heard had turned when he heard that. His jaw clenched and eyes focused. The frustrations of his life were still present, always present, and this tidbit of knowledge pulled him in like no other. Given the current circumstances, while he felt luck was not entirely necessary for his actions, the additional help was still tantalizing. His hands pushed into his pockets, still glancing at the vile, and Maeve took this moment to look around the room, eventually resting back on him, seeing the way he stared as if he were contemplating snatching it. 

Her brow creased, wondering just what Malfoy would want it for.

"So! This is what I offer each of you today. One tiny vial of Liquid Luck to the student who, in the hour that remains, manages to brew an acceptable Draught of Living Death. The recipes for which can be found on page 10 of your books." 

Hands moved with haste, opening their texts, their hearts and minds determined to succeed. Bella hardly moved, managing to yawn instead, not finding anything that spectacular in the current setting, and Maeve didn't even have her book. 

"I should point out, however, only once did a student manage to brew a potion of sufficient quality to claim this prize. Nevertheless, good luck to you all. Let the brewing commence!"

Bodies drifted, expanding throughout the room and finding a place to set up shop. The sound of pages being flipped could be heard everywhere, along with some prattle of either encouragement, light discussion, or trying to dissuade an opponent. Maeve had turned to her own table, looking to Bella who followed beside her, her own book opened lazily while she skimmed the page. When she saw Maeve not have her own open, or even present for that matter, she pushed her own towards her.

"Did I forget to grab yours when we rushed? Oops, well here, you can read off mine if you'd like."

"No, it's alright. I'm good."

"What do you mean you're good?"

She stood, perplexed, while Maeve just scuttled off to grab the things needed. The blonde ran about, grabbing her ingredients, but almost bumping into Malfoy along the way. Surely, she needed to get better at her navigation. Their arms brushed and Draco just looked down to Maeve, for he was at least six foot to six foot one, whereas Maeve was around five foot five. Neither of them squinted in annoyance, for Malfoy was too busy noticing she didn't have her text. 

"Aren't we over confident."

"Move along, beanstalk. Some of us have work to do."

" _Beanstalk_?"

Blaise was not far from Draco and couldn't help but burst out a little laugh, earning him a sharp piercing stare, quickly rendering to silence. By the time he looked back Maeve was gone, across the room and beside Bella, her things being placed on the table. 

"Hurry up, Malfoy. Times ticking mate."

And so it was. 

Time eased on and people were having quite a struggle trying to cut the Valerian roots. The only people who seemed to not be in a dilemma were Potter and Olsson. Slughorn had to catch a flying root that someone accidentally shot across the table, and Bella herself was gradually building up her frustrations, not entertained by this need to chop, chop, chop. When she looked over to her companion, someone working without even reading any content, her eyebrow arched, catching her place the flat of the blade against the root and crush it, the piece crunching and its jelly like insides coming out. 

"Where did you go to school again?" 

She pressed, but Maeve only smiled, feeling proud of the skills her Father taught her. Granger was on the other side, huffing, her hair wild and unruly from the head, a little sweat beading on her brow. None too far from where the two girls were, Pansy was also having a heck of a time, and when she looked over to see Olsson working calmly and effectively, no worry on her face, she had an urge to take her blade and jab it into her sockets. 

Unable to resist, Pansy lifted her lip, her usual band of girls too focused on their own projects to join in. That did not cause a problem for her, however. She didn't need much to go off of to try and pull at someone's sanity. 

"You know Olsson, I'm not at all shocked about seeing you tag along Granger and that despicable lot. I imagine that little display in Transfigurations was only just the beginning, right? Cannot just have one gender, you need to have them all?"

Bella glared at Pansy while Maeve heard, but tried to keep her focus in check. Potions was her main area of excellence. Out of everything her Father taught her, struggling through the others and having meltdowns, Potions was her sense of calm. Besides, before she replied Bella decided to speak her mind, always exhausted whenever it came to Parkinson. 

"Just because frogs refuse to even snog you, Parkinson. You're harboring a lot of negativity, why not go back to groveling like a good little pug?"

Pansy gripped the Valerian root, growling all the while, but aiming to keep herself together. Maeve tried to remain oblivious, but she was definitely thankful to have Bella here. Even if she needed a reality check on her own perception, she wasn't all terrible. 

"Wow, now you're shaking up with Axeling? First day here and already the school slag. I cannot even imagine what your parents are like. Nude beaches and swingers, I bet." 

Her focus wavered. Some people looked over but then quickly back to what they were doing, trying to remind themselves of the goal, the winnings. Maeve was just about done her potion, managing to stir the contents in the proper direction at the very end, her breathing slow. Her thoughts trying to remain pure and just on the task before her. This, however, was clearly unable to be concealed from Parkinson. She noticed the difference in disposition, and seeing as a weak spot was a weak spot, oh, she went all the way.

"That's it, isn't it? Failure parents birthing a failure spawn? Daddy doesn't pay attention much, huh? I wonder-" Pansy faced more towards Maeve now, who's heart rate had elevated, her knuckles white as she clutched the stir stick. Bella was pressed, catching the look of Maeve, seeing how this was genuinely bothering her. 

"Shut it, Parkinson. You know I have the power to throw you into detention."

Pansy ignored her, her smirk widening. Watching the way Maeve was having trouble moving. Was it a panic attack? Was it a meltdown? She wanted her to explode. She wanted her to be ruined. She **refused** to have that little bitch win _._

"I wonder if your parents wished they had just offed themselves after seeing what a horrified reproach of a daughter _you are_."

**BOOM!**

A wild shrill of screams chorused, the contents of Maeve's cauldron erupting. Before anyone knew it Professor Slughorn was nearby, his wand extended, shouting " _ **PROTEGO**!_" the entirety of it encasing around the cauldron before it ended up hitting anything or anyone. His eyes were wide as he looked down, watching the portion of the table that fell victim to the concoction begin to sizzle, hard enough was the wood to not just render it into nothing, but it definitely chewed away a few layers. 

Everyone looked over while Pansy stood there, her jaw slack, and Bella's hands covered her mouth, staring at Maeve. Maeve just glared at Parkinson, a look as deadly as a massacre, before turning away. Quickly, she grabbed her bookbag off to the side, and began to leave the room. The entire class watched her, Malfoy included, his eyes bold. 

"Times up!" 

Slughorn tried to ease things back into class, and it seemed to work, because many of them groaned, now looking at their cauldrons instead of what had transpired. As he breathed though, glancing down at the partially annihilated board, he couldn't help but wonder what caused such a boom given this, clearly, was a _perfect_ craft of Draught of Living Death.

_________________________________________________

Another chapter concluded! I apologise for how long this one is but, honestly, I couldn't stop. I definitely an enjoying writing this and at this point I just feel quite happy to share my thoughts with you all. On that note:

Damn about Maeve. She tried so hard to keep it together but Parkinson really has it out for her. What do you think will happen now? Who was staring through the window during the odd weather issues? What does Slughorn think? 

See you next chapter!

**xo D.D.**


	7. 06 | 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒐𝒄𝒖𝒔

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month has passed since Maeve had her little outburst and she has managed to sort herself out a bit better due to wearing the second necklace. During class, however, she does use her freeform magic against Pansy, which calls upon the look of Snape leading him to take matters into his own hands.

**LONELINESS IS A** terrible thing. It can drive a sane being mad, let them feel lost in a world they once looked upon fondly. All the hope, and light, and beauty around them, it becomes nothing but a mute landscape of lackluster pigments and shades, where even the sublime is looked upon as a torment. To Maeve, she could have handled loneliness, but what she could not handle was a fresh wound forced larger, having no choice but to be subjected to dirt stained fingertips as they writhed around inside, pushing along the blood and fueling the pain, causing the gash to bleed more than originally intended. She was far from healing as everything was still so fresh, but swallowing her sadness seemed easier when your entire body was not a loaded wand, where at the slightest twitch could cause a disaster of events to unravel. 

The rest of the day had been avoided, her classes dismissed and ignored. Maeve had wandered the halls at first but when a creaky old man with a limp and mangled old cat shouted something from down the hall about not being in class, before he could reach her she had ran off, abandoning the halls in exchange for the outdoors. Unknown to Maeve, Arabella and the Golden Trio had been on the hunt for her since then, asking questions of inquiry to those who passed. It was only when the day had finally switched to night that Maeve had went back to the Slytherin Common Room, her body entering the dark and cool place, letting out a sigh of relief when Pansy was not to be seen, or Draco.

Instead, only a few people she had not met nor cared to interact with sat along the leather sofa or lingered by the tall windows that revealed the underbelly of the Black Lake. As her footsteps brought her towards the winding stairwell towards the bedrooms, Maeve suddenly paused, her memory recalling that Pansy slept in the same room she did. A little grumble collected in her throat and she turned around, thinking maybe just to crash on the sofa tonight. 

Avoiding Pansy was less about being further wounded by her pestering and more about her lack of control on her emotions. The events that transpired in the Potions laboratory rattled Maeve, and while she had yet to hear some whispers about it, she was certain such outcomes were not good. It would not surprise her if she'd end up being called by Dumbledore, commenting on what he heard and what needs to be done. 

"Lu-Lu! **_There you are_**! Where have you been all day?! I was looking _everywhere!_ I even ended up shoving myself among Potter and the lot since they started to hunt for you too. You have no idea how insufferable that was but, really, as much as they drive me insane they really do know the in's and out's of this castle like no other. Even if they are bloody morons." 

There it was, the rush of feminine tone from the one person in her house that seemed to, oddly enough, give a semblance of a damn. Maeve was situated on the sofa now, her body leaning into the chair while her eyes watched the fire dance from the hearth. She didn't turn yet to look at Bella, but she did hear her walk over and tell some second year to move, which they ended up doing. 

"If you're thinking about Pansy, just try to forget about it. I tossed her a detention and informed Snape, so here is to hoping she has to clean the herbology room or polish Filch's silverware for hours upon hours." 

Maeve finally turned her head, looking at Bella as she sat poised and waiting for her to say something in return. She was not sure what to say though, so instead she just uttered a simple ' _Thanks_ ' before sitting back into the sofa, eyes returning to the fire. 

Bella sighed, her shoulders rising then falling, before getting up and walking closer towards the girl who she was insistent to keep around. She held out her hand, waiting for her to grab it and get up. To stop the moping and the eyes of far-off dreams. Maeve just turned, looking at up and then at her hand. 

"I don't know why Pansy bothered you so much but, it's probably best not to sleep in the same room with her right now. So, off we go, you can bunk with me tonight!" 

"It's alright, I'm sure it is nothing--"

"You really feel safe closing your eyes around that pug faced wretch?" 

"Fair point." 

That's when she finally got up, managing to follow behind Bella and walk towards the area of dormitories, but instead of venturing upwards a tad to bring them just above the water, instead, they went deeper into the bowels of below. Candles flickered with melted wax that didn't seem to drip onto the stone, and the winding steps beckoned them on until they finally reached a hall that could fit at least three people side-by-side. 

There were two doors at the end, angled almost across from each-other but more perpendicular in position. Between them and against the wall was a stone statue of Merlin, the size enough to tower the two girls as it rested on a podium, looking with vacant eyes out and towards the walkway. She caught the various paintings on the wall, some of them snoring, while another hissed in her direction when she looked too long. 

"Here is mine. Prefect position is perfect since you get your own, private dorm. Mainly the reason why I was adamant in obtaining it." 

Bella snickered to herself, taking out her wand to work the unlock spell that kept it from being invaded. Maeve glanced to the other door. 

"Who is in that one?"

"Just Malfoy. I'll _never_ understand how he managed to get the title. My thought is his Daddy." 

Her eyes rolled just as she popped inside her space. Maeve stood there for a moment, her eyes just staring at the black painted wood, its deep designs provoking her, making her wonder if he was there, on the other side, right now. The image of him inside made her scrunch her hands up into fists, annoyed by her odd brain to even bother entertaining thoughts of the entitled youth. So, she quickly gathered herself inside Bella's bedroom, slamming the door behind her by accident and aiming to try and forget the events of today. If it were not for her focus being drowned by other matters, Maeve would have been rather impressed with the high ceilings, large windows that showed under the water, and fine decoration of such a large area of living. It had its own quirk of Bella in it, naturally, but the intricate designs of architecture would make someone think of the nineteenth century.

The rest of the night went by quite smoothly. Bella tried to explain what had happened after she left the class, and how Harry had won the Liquid Luck. She even went as far as to try and ask what had Maeve so down in the dumps, but since she did not want to talk about it, Bella eased into something different before getting ready for bed and saying her good-night's. When the Axeling girl had entered a deep slumber wearing an eye mask of silver concealing any and all light, Maeve just rested at her side, staring up at the ceiling, unable to properly crash just like before. 

Then she recalled the silver chain that Dumbledore had given her, and easing out of her bed, walked over to her bag to fetch it out. The cool sensation of the metal felt nice on her neck when she applied the piece. Just as she clasped it at the back, a weird, rather weighted feeling pushed into her chest, as if a lock had just been clicked to keep things from spilling out. Or at least be better bottled. 

For two hours Maeve sat on the cushioned seat of an indented window, her legs lounging off to her side and almost under her rear. She'd watch a few sea creatures stroll by, and it was only when she heard the faint sound of mermaid's singing a melodic tune that her body began to relax, her time of being awake rendering to a halt as she was lulled by the coral reefs and drifting seaweed. 

______________________________________

Almost four weeks had passed since that night and the snide remarks had not simply vanished from Pansy. Maeve could not always end up staying with Bella, for she knew it was foolish. In the end she placed a little charm around her bed that would keep anyone who was not her from being able to sit or lounge on it, ensuring she would not have issues when going to bed. As for Malfoy, well, his own ridiculous banter was continuous, but his eyes were the most annoying feature. He'd stare, and stare, burning questions into her without ever uttering a word. While many a time she'd turn and he'd be looking away, Maeve could feel the watch, and sometimes Bella would comment on it in her ear, teasing as if Maeve had indeed locked lips with him. 

More pressing, however, was Slughorn's adamant need to approach her and inquire on her skills with Potions. Maeve aimed to brush him off various times, saying she had to tend to her studies or other matters, but today, well, he appeared to not take no for an answer. When the classroom was empty and Maeve had gathered her things, there did Slughorn walk up, his cheerful eyes full of determination as he smiled at the student. 

"Miss Olsson, if I may, before you go whisking elsewhere, I would just like you to know that I am most impressed with your concoctions. May I ask on where you studied prior?"

Maeve stood almost near the door, her shoulder rolling to reposition her bag, the back hitting against her bottom in the process. She watched how Slughorn had a kindly smile on his face, but it was also riddled with curiosity. Natural for a Professor when it came to their main area of expertise. 

"I was homeschooled, Professor. My father was the one to teach me."

"Ahh, well, he was quite the educator. Or, rather, you are quite the student!"

"Thank you, Professor."

She went to side step, smiling at him to ensure he knew she did accept his compliments. He carried on, though, his desire to understand keeping her held where she was.

"I dare say you over-step Harry, actually. I see you not even bother to flip open your text from time to time. Quite curious, though, that your first potion popped the way it did. It seemed to be the true top of the class otherwise-"

"I must have stirred it the wrong way, sir. Just, um, a lot on my mind I guess."

"Quite so, quite so. Well! Anyway! What I mean to pester you with is actually an invitation to a little get together I shall be hosting soon for all my top students. I'd be honored if you'd be part of the mix." 

"Well, I-"

"Think about it, Miss Olsson. It would be a fabulous way for us all to collaborate and, might I add, a great slip on the old transcript." 

Professor Slughorn chuckled a bit, finally taking the time to walk back to his prior affairs and giving way for Maeve to leave the class. It was not like she did not enjoy the man, on the contrary, he was a fine teacher and individual, but she was trying to keep on a lower radar than before. Since placing on the necklace she has had far less outbursts and, thankfully, no need to quick think an explanation in order to dodge the truth. The only problem that she faced is, during extreme moments of stress, the necklace was not as strong and things would, occasionally, _slip_.

There was one more class for the day and that was _Apparition_ , something Maeve did not find enjoyable in more ways than one. Aside the sensation of wanting to upchuck her days worth of meals, Malfoy and his little troop of followers were in that class. It aggravated her that he was in so many, for at some point he always said something, smirking as he does, and then if Pansy was present she'd react like a jealous little infant who was not getting enough attention. 

Insufferable. 

On the upside, the class _was_ outside, giving them plenty of space to maneuver about. It was in the same section that first year students were taught to use a broom, but since that class was in the wee mornings on Wednesdays, that allowed for the entire area to be vacant for their needs. 

Maeve had placed on a thicker sweater due to the chill of October being far more alarming than that of September. The grass crunched beneath her shoes as she walked outside, castle walls encircling the class that almost had everyone present. There were students from each house in the mix, many of them keeping close to their own people, or at least not as close to the Slytherin's themselves. Other than about two she did not know, the rest of the Slytherin's were, of course, Draco and the rest. 

As soon as his platinum head spotted Maeve there did it already begin. 

"Olsson, look at you, finally showing up on time! Here to make sure you stay nice and fit due to your weekly hurls?"

"Dra åt helvete, Malfoy."

"I don't speak in tongues, Olsson. Don't worry, I do think the heaving is fairing you well. I wouldn't worry too much."

Maeve placed her bag on the ground, fetching her wand and standing a bit away from him. She scoffed, turning to catch his eyes with her own, a battle of iceberg and stormy seas. His lips pulled back into a grin, but it faltered a tad when she fired back her own comment, one that made Blaise have a hard time keeping a neutral expression.

"If you wanted to let me know you think I have a nice figure, Malfoy, all you had to do was say so."

Malfoy had yet to reply but Pansy, on the other hand, ground her teeth together and glared. She went to slither a bit closer to Malfoy, try to bring his focus back to her, but he only shrugged her off. Whatever response he was thinking would have to wait, though, for out came Snape, the instructor of the class. 

It made the young woman wish to fall into a deep hole to know that she had him twice in one day. Thankfully, since she had aimed to arrive early to D.A.D.A., she did not have to subject herself to Malfoy's annoyances and therefore she was given no quips. Not like the first day, anyhow, unless, of course, she sat with the trio. Then it was bound to unravel. 

"While I am sure your conversations are _most illuminating,_ class has begun, so do fetch your _wands_ and get into position."

His droning voice rolled out and over everyone, causing someone in the Hufflepuff group, Maeve believed his name was Felix, to make a motion of false strangulation to one of his friends. Snape snapped his eyes at the boy and it caused him to straighten up quick, his face draining of color all the while. 

"As I have mentioned before, _Apparating_ must be done with a clear mind, and can only be achieved up to a distance of 1500 kms, and _that alone_ is only possible with a being who not only has power, but vast knowledge of the terrain." 

His dark robes swayed as he walked, wand held in hand while beady eyes scanned each student, soon resting on Maeve in a way that made her feel a tad unsettled. Pansy was still groveling, her arms crossed along her chest, while Blaise could not suppress a yawn from leaving his mouth. Quite a few of them already had knowledge of this practice, many taking it as just a means to enhance the skills already present. Maeve, however, was considerably new, and as Malfoy so kindly pointed out previously, had a tendency to throw up more than others. 

It was a dreadful experience, but it was a necessary skill. A good thing to know just in case. 

As almost an hour neared, the class having done some light apparition from one side of the yard to the other, Maeve had to remember to hold her wand steady and channel her magic through it instead of through her. Throughout the process, though, Pansy had been aiming to flick spells at her, causing her grip to loosen on the wood and mess up the task before she even completed it. 

Maeve was close to hexing the bitch until Snape raised his voice, declaring the next step of their lesson.

"Now, form a line. One at a time you will apparat from this location-" Snape pointed to his feet. "To _this_ location." Within seconds he was gone, his body sucked into a circular tunnel of smoke and mist, before reappearing on one of the smaller towers with a parapet top. Some people gasped while others proceeded to talk again before Snape apparated back down, explaining how they were to come back as well. 

Students began to shuffle into place. A long, straight line where Maeve was in the middle of instead of the end, and already dreading the process. Pansy was in front of her, just behind Malfoy, while behind Maeve was the Hufflepuff Felix. Slowly the events carried on, some doing so with ease, as for others it being a bit more complicated. Thankfully no one had yet to be tossed to the infirmary. 

As it neared Malfoy's turn, he turned about, looking over his shoulder at Maeve.

"Be sure to pay attention now. Might learn a thing or two."

He then winked at her, causing her own stare to darken. Pansy reacted with a huff. 

Naturally, he apparated perfectly fine. His form vanishing from sight, showing up in the correct spot, then coming back down. When he faced the rest of the class he gave a silly little bow, one that Snape made him hurry up and finish due to shoving him towards the rest. His friends clapped, Blaise patting him on the back when he neared the other students who had finished their turn, and Pansy clapped her hands far too enthusiastically, spewing out a ' _That was remarkable, Draco'_!

" _Wasn't that impressive_." She grumbled again, a response that seemed to be far too regular these days. 

" _I agree, but Malfoy loves to be worshipped. Probably why he hangs about those bagheads._ "

A voice slipped up from behind Maeve and she turned around, catching the sight of Felix Firebrand, a rather attractive young man with short, yet fluffed, brown locks and warm honey eyes. He had a little smile on his lips and Maeve returned it. 

" _I'm just waiting for him to choke and eat shit._ "

Felix snickered. The two exchanged their mockery back and forth before Pansy turned around, getting ready to perform and try to impress the entire class. Before she did, of course, she looked to Maeve, straightening her back and flicking her medium length hair behind her shoulder. 

"Watch and weep, Olsson. _I_ can do it while keeping all of my food and drink down, like a proper lady." 

Another eye roll for Maeve. Pansy turned around, looking towards her destination and picking up her wand. She went to go for a flick, mind turning on the thoughts of the parapet roof, until Maeve stared her down. She watched Pansy as she lifted her magical little trinket, body ready to disappear, but Maeve moved her free hand from beside her, jerking it to the right and fingers curling in, flicking out her power to ruin Pansy's day. 

Which she did. 

With that jerk, a little rush of wind would push into Pansy's chest just as she vanished from sight, and then she was gone. Not on the rooftop nor anywhere else someone could see. Maeve put her hand behind her, trying to look as shocked and surprised as the rest. Felix, on the other hand, couldn't help but laugh while others began to whisper. 

"I knew she'd bloody fudge it. Ha!" 

Snape searched around above, but not before looking to Maeve, his eyes narrowed. She didn't notice due to having been looking towards Felix since he spoke. As he went to calm the class, telling them to be quiet, as even Malfoy was laughing off at the side, there did a wild and ferocious scream hit the air. 

Everyone snapped around, looking in the direction of the voice, and all eyes came to focus on little Miss Parkinson, who was stuck in the midst of a naked tree, her robe stuck and body swaying in the wind, left arm angled in a terribly unnatural direction. Her wand had fallen from her grip onto the ground below, and as she dangled, legs flailing, she would not shut up about how someone had to get her down as soon as possible, cries hitting the air to detail her immense pain. 

Everyone erupted in laughter all the more while Snape sighed, marching over to Pansy and trying to get her down. There did he finish the class for trying to bring her back to surface level was proving a bit more difficult than imagined. 

"Would someone lead Miss Parkinson too the infirmary? You, Henlock."

Snape pointed at a disgruntled and rather tired Ravenclaw, not enjoying the idea of taking her but knowing to deny Snape would be a far more damaging act. When Pansy was on the ground, she only snapped at Henlock about how she could do it herself, but then tried to call for Malfoy, instead, to lead her. Instead, he was cackling, his back turned to her, unaware and uncaring. 

That was the end of that. 

Maeve rolled her wrist, pretending to crack the knuckles and turn away to grab the rest of her things as the chatty group of people began to discuss what to do for the rest of the day. Just as Maeve had placed her wand in her bag, Firebrand slid up to her right side, a charming little curve to his mouth and hand outstretched to shake. 

"You're Lucinda, yeah? M'Felix, nice to see a green coat with a sense a humor." 

"Green coat?"

Maeve had taken his hand, their grips equal and not too intensive. When they broke apart he shoved his digits in his pockets after moving his yellow and black scarf around his neck. His comment made her confused, briefly, until it dawned on her and she blushed a tad, feeling silly about how obvious it was.

"Oh, I get it."

Felix snickered, nodding, his body aiming to turn along with her as they walked, waving off his main friends who he had clustered with originally. A few of them stared at him, curious on what the hell he was doing socializing with a person from such a house. Slytherin had a notorious reputation for being the home of malevolent souls, but many tend to forget that humans are multifaceted. Not every person can be placed into a box and labeled the same as another. While yes, Maeve so far has come to see quite a few crass people in the mix, she's also seen some rather ambitious and forthright people who stuck up for those who just found it difficult to stick up for themselves. 

The Hufflepuff boy must have been at least on the same wavelength, otherwise why would he be approaching someone many assumed as hostile?

"So, been almost a month since you've arrived, whatcha think so far?"

"It's okay. Well, härlig, för att vara sant."

Firebrand blinked, staring at Maeve in a moment of loss. The expression made her laugh, eyes closing to feel the full body quiver. He coughed a little, coming to laugh as well, and of course wait on her translation.

"It means lovely."

"That whole thing means _lovely_?"

"No, no, ' _härlig_ ' means lovely. The rest means _to be true_."

"Ooh, well ain't that blinding. Have ya known English for a while, then? Ya words are pretty posh." 

"My Dad taught me English growing up as well, yes. Swedish is my native language, though."

The two exchanged pleasantries as they walked across the yard, aiming to go through the doorway and back inside. Instantly the cool air drifted away, warmth spreading along their bodies, for whatever magic was at play did well to separate the changing seasons from a reasonable temperature. As they carried on their discussion, Malfoy could not help but turn his head while he stood near his mix of lads, his focus drifting over to the girl and her sudden proximity to the minging Hufflepuff. 

He was not thinking as his jaw clenched. In fact, he hardly understood why. For some reason he should found her associating with Firebrand to be particularly bothersome. 

" _Oi_ , Malfoy. You listenin'?"

Draco turned his head, finally looking back to Zabini and Gibbins. Blaise analyzed him, looking along his features before turning his head in the direction he had his attention on. Gregory, on the other hand, just let out a bark of merriment. His hand came up to clap Draco behind his left shoulder, causing him to almost lurch forwards in the process. 

"Nah, he's too busy followin' the fit bird named Olsson."

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Come off it, Draco. We've eyes. In fact, we're _proper men_ with eyes."

"No, you're both fools thinking with the wrong damned head."

"Ha. Whatever you say mate." Another clap to his shoulder before Malfoy rolled it, shrugging him off with a fixed sneer on his face. "Right then, come on, m'starvin' and I heard cornish pasties are on the menu tonight."

The young men proceeded inside with Draco in the center and a bit further up. While the other two continued to chortle, their banter full of quips and little laughs while discussing ideas of what to do on the weekend, Malfoy was more preoccupied by the former words exchanged. There was something about Lucinda that he couldn't stop thinking about. Sure, she was attractive, and yes, he found her reactions to be quite amusing, but there was something a bit deeper. Something he could not quite place, but knew was different. He just wasn't certain what that exactly consisted of. 

At least not yet.

* * *

For the past month Maeve had managed to keep alongside Bella and the other three here and there. While they tended not to merge together in one lump due to Bella's foolish beliefs, occasionally she would sprout up, adamant to lounge with Maeve and be part of something. She did enjoy all four of their company, but to branch out seemed nice as well, and this Felix Firebrand was definitely not a person that came across as confrontational nor in possession of an agenda. In fact, the two were having quite a decent time communicating back and forth as they walked. He was asking questions and she'd try to answer to the best of her ability, and then the roles would reverse. 

"Home schooled an' all? You're tellin' me you _never_ really had other friends?"

"Well, yes, I mean. It's complicated?"

"I'd have gone absolutely bonkers." 

She giggled a bit, nodding to herself while looking down, books at her front and a little sag to her shoulders. It was a decent chat, this was true, but whenever conversation veered back to her prior living situation that is when she'd begin to feel low. It had been difficult being raised in an environment that was surrounded by an invisible wall, but she did have an amazing parent, and Lavender was a magnificent house elf who was also part of the family. 

The very thought of Lavender in that moment caused her to stop. There was a pouring flood of dread as she wondered what happened to her. Was she safe at home still? Was she murdered like the rest? Like her Father? The speculation was enough to make her go mental. 

Felix turned to her, noticing her not having moved along with him anymore, but just as he walked in her direction there did Professor Snape appear from another direction. The dark mop of a man stood off to Maeve's side, his eyes deep and foreboding. When he turned to Firebrand, and upon Maeve finally lifting her head, there did an utter of speech grace their ears. 

"Having a bit of a _walk_ before dinner?"

"Uh, yes sir. Professor Snape. Sir." 

The Hufflepuff swallowed a bit, wondering just what it was he wanted. He was enjoying the chat with Lucinda before the stop and intervention. Maeve had yet to respond, she just glanced to Felix, shrugging her shoulders.

"I'll be needing Miss Olsson for the time being. She'll catch up with you later on, Firebrand." Felix blinked, looking back to Maeve before seeing Snape's face again. His expression enough to make an ominous shiver run down the length of his spine. 

"It was a nice chat, Felix. I'll see you in the Great Hall?"

He nodded, giving her a look that said ' _good luck_ ' before turning about and continuing on his way. Now it was just the two of them. Professor and student. Aside the occasional pair of legs that would ease by, soon to turn a corner and be gone, it was a rather quite hall they occupied. Maeve was awaiting an explanation or justification of why he needed her presence, but instead of getting it, he just looked down at her shorter stature and slowly turned around. 

"Follow me."

Goodness knows she did not want to, but what choice was there? Detention upon rejection? Swallowing her little fears, Maeve did as instructed, keeping behind Snape as he walked around the school, his body turning when necessary to shift into another hall before they neared the moving stairwells. Up they went and then back down, finally landing on a different hallway that had a rather gloomy hue to it. As they neared the end, standing directly in front of a room, there did a door conjure itself up without even saying a word. 

Snape pushed it open, instructing her inside first before managing to close it once they were both out of ear and eyeshot of anyone else who happened to be walking about. The room was massive and entirely empty, pillars here and there, reaching up to the tall ceiling above. It had a rather blue tint to it, in its own way, giving a winter-like sensation that Maeve could not explain. 

As soon as she turned to Snape, about to ask what it is he called her here for, he marched up. His face dark and none too kind. A regular expression but seemingly worse when it was one on one. 

"I'll have you know, _Miss Dahl_ , that use of magic on another student is a **serious offence** and one that can lead to expulsion."

Her whole body froze. Maeve stood there, eyes wide, looking up towards Snape and feeling ten times smaller than prior. She hugged her books a bit closer to her chest now, everything about her current life passing through her mind. One being how did he know her real name, and two, if she got kicked out, _what then_?!

"I-I-... How do you-?"

"How do I know who you really are? I've known for a while. Now, back to the current issue at hand."

"Look, I'm sorry but she was using magic on me first and I didn't know she would end up popping into a tree and breaking her arm!"

"Exactly. You _did not know_. You have abilities, Dahl, that almost no one else has. It is about time you learned to not just use them _responsibly_ , but _effectively_."

Snape took out his wand, giving a little swish and causing the room to fill with a few bits of furniture and trinkets. One being a wooden table, and on top, various ornaments of size. Random little things, really. A small potions cauldron was off to the far right, the contents bubbling and brewing as if it had been ready and awaiting attention for a while. 

Maeve was unsure of how to proceed with her words. She did not expect any of this, and for a moment considered if Dumbledore put him up to the task? Who else, aside himself and Professor McGonagall, and of course Moody, knew about her title and background? Even more importantly, what was he planning? If she had used magic on another student did that mean she was to be thrown into detention or kicked out? What was the point? 

A thousand and more questioned rolled up at the front of her mind while Snape maneuvered towards the stretch of surface, standing just behind it and urging her to come over. When she didn't move fast enough he'd come to glare, and that pushed her into speed quite well. 

"I am aware of the necklace you have and what it is capable of, better yet, what it is able to hold back. Until you can get a _handle_ on things, it will have to remain on." He slowly eased away from the table, standing just off to the left of it, but eyes still watching. "You will take this opportunity, now, to perform four tasks. The first, to levitate the item. No wand in use."

"Why?"

"It is not about accomplishing the task itself, as more how you maintain it. You are **weak willed and fragile** , unable to control your emotions like a volcano about to burst. Learning how to steady your mind is _imperative_ for success."

Maeve glared at him, hating the words he said. Who was he to tell her she was weak willed and fragile? She'd been through absolute hell! Like he even knew the first thing what that possibly felt like; to see what she had to see and feel the loss she had to go through?! 

Any books in her hand were dropped, pushed off to the side while she glowered. Pushing her sleeves up to the elbow, she planned to show him just how _weak willed_ she was. The foolish bastard.

"Remember to think clearly. Empty your mind of thoughts, and feelings, and focus purely on the act itself." 

"Shut up! I know what I'm doing!"

She snapped, his voice only causing her to be more frustrated. To be clear of thought and feeling was proving difficult given his tone. Maeve held out her right hand, eyes directly on one of the objects on the table, a little handheld mirror tinted of ivory. The flat of her palm kept out, and she channeled her energy, her focus and being, into heading towards her hand. As soon as she did the mirror flung up, but not in an even pace. Instead, the object dashed at her and she yelped, crouching down while it flew past her head and slammed into the stone wall, shattering the glass. 

Great, was that more bad luck? Did she just sign a further death warrant? 

Snape breathed through his nose.

"You drown yourself in your mind; a slave to your very thoughts. How do you expect to excel when you cannot even stabilize your own head?"

" _ **Håll käften**_!"

"Do it _again._ **Focus** _."_

She stood up to her regular height, breathing through her mouth and trying to get a hold of herself. If he was trying to tick her off on purpose just to watch her fail, well, he was doing a fine job of it. Maeve straightened her back, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to drown out the anguish of horrible memories and instead aim to focus on the one person who always managed to make her calm. Her Father. 

' _Känn magin, Maeve. Det är en del av dig. Visa det i ditt sinne_.' (Feel the magic, Maeve. It's a part of you. Show it in your mind.)

' _Tänk om jag skadar dig igen, pappa?_ ' (What if I hurt you again, Dad?)

' _Tänk inte på något sådant. Tro på dig själv, som jag tror på dig_.' (Do not think of such a thing. Believe in yourself, as I believe in you.)

Her Father's words spoke in her mind. The memory was of one when she was ten, struggling with her magic and how it would happen at odd times, difficult to quell and channel when she wished. She remembered bursting flame out due to saying _incendio_ and having his entire sleeve light up, and while he got it out, he still ended up with a few burns that remained. It scared her, how ferocious her magic could be, how a wand, for others, was like a cap on their abilities. If someone was not holding a wand, the chance to harm was not present. Maeve, on the other hand, did not have that boundary. 

What she did have, though, was a Father who refused to give up on her. 

As she held out her palm, Maeve slowly opened her eyes, the whisper of ' _Accio_ ' drifting past her lips and into the stale air. The second object slipped towards her, nestling right in her hand, landing with a bit of force but nothing that would cause her to lose her stance. When she looked up, smirking at Snape all the while, there was no praise that came. Instead, he just stared.

" **Again**."

_________________________________________________

Cheers to another hearty chapter! I know it must seem a bit slow still but I assure you it is going to pick up more come the next chapter, where, for a hint, you will see Draco getting approached by the Dark Lord himself for his new and special task. 

Thank you so much, again, for all of you who are taking the time to read! I'm having fun writing this story and it is helping me get a better grasp on my writing. I am excited to hear about your thoughts, your speculations, and maybe even suggestions that I could consider for upcoming chapters!

Love you all and see you for chapter 7! ❤

 **xo D.D.**


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